


Your hate when you want love

by kogimaru



Category: Borderlands
Genre: Asphyxiation, Begging, Biting, Blood, Come Eating, Exhibitionism, Forced Orgasm, Humiliation, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Nipple Play, No Aftercare, Orgasm Denial, Pet Play, Rape/Non-con Elements, Slow Burn, Violence, Watersports
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-23
Updated: 2015-12-09
Packaged: 2018-04-27 16:27:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5055694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kogimaru/pseuds/kogimaru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'm your truth, telling lies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I'm your dream, make you real

**Author's Note:**

> No smut...quite yet. Don't freak out!!! :3

Breathing for the first time is like fire in Jack’s lungs. New and raw in this suddenly solid frame. Everything immediately feels very heavy. Sensations flood his fresh nerves, the cool air and the low light of – wherever he was, he obviously couldn’t tell – searing the edges of his perception with a painful sting. As he slowly comes around to some clarity, his eyes focus on a bright lamp to the left of him. He groans and flinches away from it, the muscles of his new body screaming to life with every movement.

“Oops, sorry about that,” A sharp click and a voice that barely registers; Jack can’t seem to grasp his thoughts as his abrupt senses race away from him. His eyes struggle to adjust to the abrupt lack of brightness. Slowly easing his them open, Jack is somewhat eased by the cool blue background glow filling out the dimension of the room. He can make out a slim figure looming in front of him, obscured by the darkness, an ominous yellow flicker piercing Jack’s unsteady range of view.

“You alright? Everything probably feels a little overwhelming right now.” Jack’s head swims with a blur of distant sounds, the low, calm lull of the stranger’s voice gradually pulling him back to attention. “Jack? Jack. Do you know where you are? Who you are?”

“Rhys…” The name slips off of his tongue before he can remember remembering it. Once he says it, he mumbles it again, perhaps incoherently this time, because the stranger scoffs at him. Somehow the sound itself is a little comforting in its familiarity.

“That’s _my name_ , yes.” The sound of the stranger moving rustles in Jack’s sensitive ears, making him wince a little. Another click, softer this time, brings the light back into Jack’s peripheral, along with the dim features of Jack’s once-cohort.

“Rhys.” Jack sighs heavily, a difficult memory lurking under the haze of his reviving senses. The man in question tilts his head curiously, face twisted in amusement, patiently waiting for Jack to continue. “You little shit.” Rhys’ face immediately splits with a genuine smile; he crosses his arms and leans back against something Jack takes a few seconds to make out is a desk. “How did you…am I? What is this?”

“Remember that shiny new body you wanted so badly?” Rhys’ eyes scan over Jack’s body somewhat callously, making a bitter taste of resentment rise in the back of his throat. There is no more fear there, and Jack remembers everything. “If you had given me even…I don’t know, ten seconds? Before you tried to use me as your new flesh-suit. You would have given me the chance…I could have helped you, Jack.”

“No, no,” Jack squints and shakes his head weakly, “You would’ve just gotten in the way, you would’ve just-” _turned against me_ , his voice fails him and the sheer silence that follows makes his heart race unpleasantly.

“Your quote, unquote _plan_ , Jack.” Rhys turns behind himself to fiddle with something on the desk. It seems as though he’s also unsettled by the silence, or maybe by whatever compels him to say what he says next. “Was…sloppy. Even you know that.” Jack blinks irritably and glances at something else in the room, anywhere other than Rhys’s profile. His tone is laced with something like disappointment as he muses casually to himself, “I could have helped. You’re just soooo eager to sabotage your own success, huh?”

Jack’s body seems to chill by degrees at the criticism he’s not entirely sure he was supposed to hear, his heart rate slowing to normal. Something about Rhys’ body language seems different. Seems off. He’s not exactly ignoring Jack, it seems almost like he’s…scolding him? “…why did you-”

“Bring you back?” Rhys peeks over his shoulder to grin at Jack as he takes something from the desk into his hands. He holds Jack’s gaze for only a second before turning away, but not in any way anxious or rushed like usual, “You’ll find out soon enough. I thought you might want to get used to being among the living again before I go getting you all excited.” Light from the lamp catches on Rhys’ new chrome arm as he reaches to get something near the base of it, drawing Jack’s notice. He’s smiling again, Jack can hear it in his voice even if he can’t see his face. It twists little knots of anticipation in his stomach. “Kiddo.”

Jack squints and bristles silently, still too dazed to even begin concentrating his anger. He squeezes his hands into fists, flexing the muscles of his arm to warm them up. If he could just get his hands around Rhys’ scrawny little neck…

“You’re welcome, by the way,” Rhys sets the device he’s holding back onto the desk, tossing the extra piece he had picked up to the side carelessly. Jack tests his movements by mimicking an imaginary lunge at Rhys with his body, quickly realizing that his arms were restrained, tied to the arms of the chair he was kept in. Trying again, a little harder this time, Jack’s squirming causes his chair to squeak. Rhys turns to him with a knowing grin, “Don’t be so eager to break something, big guy. I’ll let you move around when you can behave yourself.”

“Go fuck yourself, Rhys,” Jack puffs up, trying to be more intimidating than his strained voice sounds. Rhys actually laughs at him, short and melodic, his expression oddly satisfied despite Jack obviously wanting to strangle the life from his body in the most violent way he can think of. Always the idiot, even when he manages…whatever this ill-conceived scheme was. 

“Feisty.” Jack flinches traitorously as Rhys suddenly raises a hand to him, growling in frustration when it merely lands into his hair and scratches his scalp harmlessly. However brief it was, It feels…good. Really good. Despite the sensitivity, having a body feels good. But Jack shrinks away from the affection as if he was being touched with Rhys’ stun baton instead.

“Oooho, the things I’m gonna do to you.” Jack ducks away from Rhys’ hand, jerking more confidently at his restraints. His jaw is clenched so hard it is beginning to hurt, but it’s the only thing keeping him in control of the quiet rage pooling in his gut. “As soon as I get free, Rhysie…”

“Hmm. I know you must be thankful, but you really don’t have to flatter me so much,” Rhys grabs Jack by the chin, sparing his usual shyness. He forces eye contact, the amusement draining from his face. Jack is entranced by Rhys golden eye, the brightness of it still harsh to his vision. Something about it seems to cut right through him. “You’re not going anywhere. Not until you’ve paid me back.”

“Are you kidding me? For what!? You destroyed my space station! You killed me! ” Jack’s voice breaks at his attempt to raise its’ volume, but thankfully he still sounds somewhat murderous. Rhys grins again, nodding his head slowly to himself as if he expected as much. He ignores Jack’s continued struggling to leisurely pat his hair again.

“I’ve got to go, so be good. I’ll be back to feed you later.” Jack snarls like the animal Rhys apparently thinks he is, offended. Giving one last valiant attempt to struggle from his restraints, shaking the whole chair in his efforts, Jack growls out loudly in desperation.

“Rhysie, pumpkin. Rhys.” Without response, Rhys grimaces and turns away from him, gathering a few things from the table before momentarily disappearing into the darkened part of the room. A sudden flash of light spills in through the door he exits and then he is gone entirely, leaving Jack to a defeating silence. Jack’s heart races again, the darkness eerily similar to the seemingly endless time he had spent in the detached lens of Rhys’ old echo eye. “Rhys! You asshole!”

~ Jack eventually grows tired from trying to struggle free and somehow falls asleep. Sleep is just as good as he remembers it. Somehow better. Waking when he hears Rhys’ door opening, he is surprised to find that his nerves no longer scream in confusion at every simple action. There’s a dull ache in his stomach, however, that grows worse the second he can smell that Rhys is bringing him the food he promised. Something sweet and cooked, perhaps even burned. Jack rubs the trail of drool from his chin into his shoulder, taking notice of the dingy yellow Hyperion sweater he was wearing on his new body.

“Hmm, where’d you find this ole’ thing?” Jack tries to lighten the mood after earlier. Or was that a whole day ago? Last night? Did it matter? He needed to get back in good with Rhys or he’d never find out at any rate.

“You’re up.” Rhys clicks a switch as he comes in, the room flooding with a flicker of florescent lights. “Brought you some Drakefruit. That sweater? I found it in the rubble of your office after Helios crashed. Was gonna tear it up for bandages, or...burn it or…something, but…” Rhys sets a plate of the sliced fruit on the table in front of Jack, allowing him to observe their blacked edges and unnaturally crispy texture.

“Oh, Rhysie,” Jack cuts him off in excitement as another wave of hot, sugary smells hit his nostrils, “I gotta tell you, cupcake, that smells fantastic. Looks gross, kinda nasty actually, but GOD- I can’t even tell you what being hungry after a few years feels like.”

“Well, try not to go too crazy about it.” Rhys is smiling a little, a peppy bounce in his step that Jack finds as deplorable as much as he does endearing. He looked almost sort of…happy? Not that Jack cares, but it’s an angle he can work from. “It’s pretty much all we have to eat until I can get out to a town. All I can find, anyways.”

“Thanks, doll. Honestly, Rhysie, you’re the best.” Rhys cocks an eyebrow at him, “Now, uh, untie me so I can eat?” Jack smiles innocently, jiggling his restraints in a playful manner.

“Layin’ it on a little thick, aren’t ya?” Rhys hops up onto the edge of the desk, a cocky grin curling his lips as he takes a piece of the grilled Drakefruit and bites into it with a crunch.

Jack sighs, wiggling his fingers to express his annoyance without breaking his facade. “Just. Untie me, Rhys.”

Rhys laughs in his throat since his cheeks are stuffed with food. He swallows quickly to respond, “Man your humor has certainly improved since you got a new body, that’s great, I’m happ-“

“UNTIE ME.” Jack flails vainly, his frustration quickly getting the better of him. As usual. Rhys swings his legs carefree over the edge of the table and kicks them absentmindedly, not the slightest bit concerned with Jack’s tantrum.

After a moment of silently munching on his crisp, Rhys clears his throat just as Jack starts to groan out another demand. “Honestly, this is a little too entertaining. The sooner you stop demanding things, the sooner you’ll get fed.” His stomach rumbles in neglect on queue as if to reinforce Rhys’ authority, sapping him of his energy to struggle any further.

“Ok, ok, ok,” Jack shakes his head stubbornly, trying to shake the natural resistance of his every thought if only for a moment. He didn’t have the stamina to match the wicked, ambitious state of his imagination at the moment. Not yet at least. “Then how am I…how do I eat?”

“Here,” Rhys catches one of his feet on the edge of Jack’s chair and also grabs it with his free hand, inching him forward with one big, jagged tug. “If you try to bite me, I’ll….don‘t try to bite me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sweet cheeks.” Jack makes a bemused expression, unable to hide an instinctive grin that betrays how his skin otherwise crawls at the idea. Crawls with what, exactly, he isn’t sure. If Rhys had even the slightest inclination, he was very capable of causing Jack actual pain now that the playing field was even. The whole performance with his cybernetics before was proof of that.

Jack takes an innocent bite of the Drakefruit crisp as Rhys holds it up for him, playing up the appreciative noises so that Rhys could see how grateful and compliant he’s being. “MMMmm, thanks, buddy! This is really good.” Really, Jack’s had better.

“Yeah, yeah,” Rhys rolls his eyes, un-phased, “just eat.” Glaring at Rhys’s choice of tone, but knowing better than to say anything right this moment, Jack chews silently. Maybe he just needed a more direct approach. After Rhys timidly tosses the rest of the crisp into Jack’s mouth so as to avoid being bitten, he tries again.

“Hey, hey, Rhysie?” Rhys glances at him flippantly as he gathers another slice of fruit from the plate, easily ignoring Jack’s sugared words, “could I get, like, some water, maybe? Huh, pal? Kinda thirsty.”

Without a word, Rhys gets up takes his time digging around in a corner of the room, bringing back a container filled with water. Jack stares after him, off-character whenever he’s sure Rhys can’t see him. He smiles at Rhys as he returns, having readied the container in his hand for Jack to take a drink. 

“Kind of regretting this already-” Rhys mumbles to himself as he tilts the container to Jack’s lips. “If it means I have to take care of you like some child.” Jack chokes on the flow of water at the comment, coughing as Rhys startles and pulls away, some of it splashing down his sweater.

“I’m your problem, now, kiddo,” Jack barks through his tight, water-clogged laughter.

“Oh please, don’t try to turn this around on me. I’m giving you a chance.” Rhys slams the container onto the desk, making it slosh dangerously close to spilling. “If you’re not willing to help me I’ll just shut you down all over again.”

“Just like that, huh?” Jack can’t stop himself from being condescending. Not when Rhys’ new-found-spine is so utterly sharp and aggravating to his nerves.

“Just like that.” Rhys’ eyes drill down fearlessly into Jack’s, making him prickle with a new-found sensation. Somehow, Jack can’t bring himself to lash out this time, the animosity digging deeper and deeper into his chest. He lowers his head, taking a deep breathe. In this moment, they are less than equals, and Jack is not on the winning side. He has to think of a way to turn this to his favor. Equal is safe.

“What is it that you want from me, exactly?” Jack leans back in his chair, throwing his head back in exasperation. 

“I was thinking, I’ve got this Atlas thing in the works,” Jack’s posture jerks to attention immediately, just in time to catch a familiar look of doubt cross Rhys’ face as he explains himself, “and as much as I hate to admit it, I could use the help building it back up. Atlas doesn’t exactly have the best name anymore and-”

“Ohoho, wait wait wait,” Jack shakes his head, his mouth split wide with an absolutely feral grin. “This is PRICELESS. You killed me- AGAIN, thanks for _that_ by the way, just to follow in my footsteps, Rhysie?” Jack scoffs breathlessly a few time before nodding, annoyingly impressed. He was never going to let Rhys live this down. If he even let Rhys live. Which wasn’t going to happen. No matter how much the kid reminded him of himself. “Way to live up to the legend, kiddo!”

“Jack.” Rhys refuses to bend to Jack’s spiel, his face setting into a sober mask of complete non-compliance. “You made Hyperion what it was in just a single decade, I can’t deny your business sense. I also can’t deny the immeasurable amount of suffering you caused to me and everyone else who made the mistake of getting involved with you.” 

“Can’t fault you for that, bud,” Jack mocks under his breath, earning a sincere glare from Rhys who doesn’t miss a beat and manages to continue talking over him.

“No one knows you’re alive, Jack. No one but me. I built your body. I know how to take it apart.” Jack’s moment of victory fizzles out instantly, leaving him cold and bitter again. “No one is going to miss you if you die. Again.”

Jack scoffs, thoroughly chaffed once more, “Yadda, yadda…”

“These are your only options Jack. Right now, I still have your rigged to a shut-down protocol if you’d rather just get it over with for good this time. But I gotta tell ya,” Rhys crosses his arms again, Jack thinks, to try and distance himself from the unpleasant weight of his own words. “Whatever you choose, it’s not going to make a difference to me.”

Somehow, I doubt that, Jack muses to himself, watching Rhys’ face closely for a moment to play on his lie. Rhys can’t look at him, however. He seems too content with glaring hole into the floor beneath his feet. He’s nervous, but for once Jack can’t be entirely sure.

After a moment of awkward silence, Jack gives with a burdened sigh, “Alright, kiddo. Just you and me. We’re in this together, Rhysie.” Again.

“Knew you’d say that.” Rhys’ body language un-tenses immediately, all of the chances Jack had been waiting for leaping from behind his well-constructed walls, “Welcome to Atlas, Mr…..uh,” Jack leers at him in warning, “Jack.”

Jack scoffs humorlessly, taking the tone of rolling his eyes without actually doing so. “Smooooth, _Mr._ Rhys.”

“Shut up.” Rhys remains victorious and smile-y despite his persistent habit of being so terribly bad at conversation. At least that hadn’t changed. Jack could work with that.

“Rhys. I have to pee.”

“Ugh, god.”


	2. I'm your pain when you can't feel

When Jack knew he was bested, he was the sometimes literal equivalent of a cornered animal. Fierce and desperate and willing to fight tooth and nail to save his own ass. Rhys considered himself very familiar with the cornered-animal Jack, more so than he’d ever wanted to be. But at this moment, standing in front of the toilet with a tacky pair of worn boxers snug around his thighs and his dick in his hand, Jack was more like a harmless kitten. Although he had to occasionally remind himself of the reality, Rhys knew well that any show of obedience only meant that Jack thought he was still in control.

“Gross, stop looking!” Rhys jolts from his thoughts to quickly realize that he had been staring where Jack’s butt might’ve been if it weren’t mostly covered by his raggedy Hyperion sweater. The older man is glaring at him over his shoulder, huddling in on himself as if to hide away from Rhys’ vision. 

Sighing, Rhys shakes his head and rolls his eyes elsewhere, “I wasn’t-”

“Yes you were,” Jack makes a pout and glares harder, “That’s creepy, Rhysie. Even for you.” 

“Would you just- hurry already? I literally have no interest in watching you pee.” Rhys folds his arms across his chest and rubs at his port tiredly. 2 days into this terrible idea and he’s already kind of wishing Jack had finished them off in the wreck. Hypothetically, of course, this could all blow up in his face at any moment. But Rhys grins under the hand that obscures his face. He absolutely can’t give. Not until he’s had his fun. 

“You’re the one that insisted on coming along, buddy.” Rhys chances a glance or two when Jack is too preoccupied to notice. He truly didn’t mean to ogle the first time, but now it couldn’t hurt. “I can’t! Not with your…creepy little eyes all over-” Jack shuffles around by the toilet, probably struggling to adjust himself with his wrists bound together in front. “Little Jack, here…Hmm. He looks a little bigger than I remember…right?” Jack turns a little as if to give Rhys a look and laughs when he immediately turns away, too. 

“WHY would I know that?” Rhys wants to laugh, because of course he knew, but this wasn’t the time to indulge in Jack’s familiar antics. After what happened between them, he had spent months agonizing over not messing things up with Atlas. Over not _becoming_ Jack. Everything he learned from his mentor weighed heavier in his mind with each passing day. 

There was always a shadow of a voice nagging Rhys in his thoughts. The glitch-y, wicked laugh every time he caught someone’s bluff or withheld a clever insult about the typical corporate sponsors he had the displeasure of dealing with. He was better because of Handsome Jack. He was perfect. But he was lonely. 

The loneliness was the worst part. The longer Rhys stayed among the Children of Helios with Vaughn and Yvette, the lonelier he felt. The more business interest Atlas brought in, the more isolated his success was. “If you don’t pee, I am putting you back in the chair. Full bladder or not.” 

“Well you made it, right? You would know?” Rhys falls quiet so Jack can focus, and a few seconds later he shivers uncomfortably at the trickle-y sound of a pee-stream. “What’s this skin stuff made out of, anyways? How am I even peeing right now?” 

Grimacing at Jack’s unsurprising decision to talk while he was taking a piss, Rhys holds back a sigh and answers him carefully. “Really _really_ expensive synthetics I used a quarter of Atlas’ reconstruction loans to buy from Anshin.” Jack whistles mockingly, making Rhys crack a smile. “Yeah, I know. And somehow you still think…your dick size was a top priorities when I dragged your sorry ass back together again?” 

“So you’re an ass guy, huh? Shoulda seen that one coming.” Jack does a little jig to shake himself off after he finishes peeing, moving his whole body since his hands are still awkward to maneuver with. Rhys waits patiently for Jack to clumsily tuck himself back into his boxers. When he finally turns around, Rhys takes note of his uncovered legs and how they make him seem much smaller than usual. Jack gestures his shoulders in the motions his arms would be making if he weren’t bound. “Rhysie. Babe. Look at me. There’s no reason to lie.” 

“Oho, no. I can think of plenty.” Rhys shakes his head gently, “Thought of several just now, actually.” 

Jack attempts to straighten his clothes a bit, struggling to pull his sweater lower to cover himself, casting Rhys suspicious looks the whole time. He fixes the collar as much as he can, too, hands eventually fumbling over a small, metallic circle tucked into the skin just below his left ear. “What’s this? Shut down protocol?” Jack pokes at it carelessly. 

“Mm, sorta.” Rhys is over to Jack’s side instantly, batting his hands away. “I built your frame similar to Nakayama’s, only better. Your skeleton is lighter but can sustain more physical damage. All of your wiring connects to a core in your sternum, which is cushioned by all of the new organ tissue.” Rhys hesitates to touch the port himself, running a delicate fingertip along its cold edges. Jack’s instant goose-flesh compels Rhys to touch it, but his finger never ventures off of the metal. “If I have to, all I gotta do is pop a drive with the program into this and in a few seconds you’re done.” Rhys watches Jack’s face closely, noticing how his jaw tightens ever so slightly. There’s a threat there, but Jack isn’t saying anything. He’s panicking. “You…won’t have to worry about any old-man bones…at least.” 

“Hilarious.” Jack eyes him warily, no longer able to resist inching away from Rhys’ touch. 

“Oh, and the best part?” Rhys pulls away and places his hand on his hip. “No flesh-hopping with this one.” 

“Well, I expected that.” Jack wiggles his eyebrow suggestively, but Rhys can see he’s not quite dedicated. “At least Naka-whatsit knew THE Handsome Jack’s style.” 

“Yeah, well-” Rhys grabs Jack’s bound hands by the rope and begins leading him from the bathroom. “You’re hardly THE Handsome Jack anymore, so…”

“Sheesh, Rhysie. Yowch.” Jack feigns hurt, crinkling his eyebrows to a peak. Rhys ignores him and sits him back into the chair, bending down to re-bind his legs before he can separate his wrists again. Jack offers some small-talk, seemingly to calm himself. “So you being head of Atlas now… that make you the new Handsome? Handsome Rhys?” 

“Does have a nice ring to it.” Rhys chuckles, pulling the chord extra tight around one of Jack’s ankles, making the man squirm a little. “But somehow I doubt potential ally companies want to deal with another Handsome anything.” 

“And you’re sure you wanted my help?” Jack hisses tightly, trying his hardest not to harass or fight back where Rhys was obviously baiting him. 

“Didn’t say getting your help meant disclosing any information about you to my business partners, did I?” He chides, moving onto the next ankle. 

“Rhysie, Rhysie. Look at you.” Jack winks down at him deceptively, his jaw still twitching with his temper. Rhys holds his gaze, amused. “I almost feel sorta- bad that I’m going to have to kill you for all of this… bullshit later.” 

Rhys stands and takes Jack’s hands, pushing them down to one arm of the chair and winding the free chord between them. “Good luck with that.” 

~

Ultimately unable to stand the unreasonable amount of times Jack had to pee in a single day, Rhys decides to stay in from his next errand and fashion a temporary pair of cuffs from some junk lying in around his garage. Jack wasn’t going to break without first having a taste of freedom, he reasoned. But mostly he didn’t want to listen to Jack continue to complain about how weird it was to pee in front of someone. 

“Alright, Jack. I’ve got something for you.” Rhys turns from his work station to check on the man- he was sitting at the desk hovered over one of Rhys’ prototype blueprints, scribbling away at some math here and there. Rhys grins to himself, knowing those prototypes were old and he had really only given them to Jack to keep him entertained. Maybe he would get something serious returned to him, though. 

“Something to eat other than Drakefruit?” Jack doesn’t look up from his work but starts chewing on the eraser head of his pencil instead, gripping it awkwardly between his bound hands. 

“No. Cuffs.” Rhys beams him a cheeky smile, presenting the funny looking things by stringing them on a finger on each hand. Jack finally looks over and immediately deadpans at the idea. 

“I knew this was gonna get weird pretty fast, pumpkin, but straight to cuffs?” He shakes his head, unamused and diverts his attention back to the blueprint. “I think we’re moving a bit fast, don’t you?” 

“Security cuffs, Jack.” Rhys walks to his side and nudges Jack’s shoulder with his elbow to get his attention again. “You don’t have to bug me to take you to the bathroom anymore.” 

Jack glances up to him with a cocky grin, “Aw, I see. Tired of catching glimpses of my massive dong, right? It’s tough being tempted with something you can’t have, isn’t it?” Setting down his pencil, he gives Rhys his bound hands, “You know. Like I was when I thought you were going to help me run Helios, again, remember that, Rhysie? Pal?” 

“Are you really trying to put our problems on the same level of severity right now?” Rhys is smart enough to fix the cuffs on Jack’s wrists before taking the chord off. “You literally tried to shove a metal skeleton into my body.” 

“So you admit that you not having your creepy way with my dick is a problem for you.” Jack nods his head as if Rhys’ response was proof enough. 

“That’s not-” Rhys rolls his eyes for the millionth time since turning Jack’s body on again, “Ugh, please stop talking. You want to be out of the chair or not?” 

“Don’t be so snappy, Rhysie.” Jack sneers at him, hiding the flicker of amusement in his eyes. “I was only yanking your chain.” 

Rhys finishes clicking the cuffs together, yanking the chain between them in response to Jack’s remark. He gives Jack an annoyed look and then leans down to untie his leg bindings. Rhys silently muses to himself as he works the chords off, making bets with himself for how long it would take for Jack to attempt an escape now that he wasn’t confined to the chair anymore. Should he warn Jack? Maybe he would…just this once. 

Finishing, he leans back on his heels to say, “Now before I let you up, I should probably mention that if you-” Jack is out of the chair instantly, knocking Rhys off balance and into the desk. Jack jumps out of Rhys’ range, even though he didn’t make to follow – to busy rubbing the back of his head where it had bumped against the table edge – and bolts for the door, a triumphant grin bright on his face. Laughing to near-hysteria, he’s almost through the door when Jack’s cries of joy turn to cries of pain; a powerful, bright shock knocking him backwards and off of his feet in a matter of seconds. 

“Should let me finish next time, huh?” Rhys mocks irritably as he takes his time getting to his feet. He finds Jack curled on his side near the doorway, clutching his chest painfully, the shock harsh on his sensitive body. 

“Ugh, what the fuc-“ Jack groans as he rolls onto his back weakly. 

“I patched a shock censor through the cuff links that will trigger at the frequency of the door’s activation signal.” Rhys crosses his arms and stands over Jack’s line of sight smugly. “You try to leave the room, you’re gonna get a little sparky.” He shrugs, trying his hardest to not point and laugh victoriously. “Kinda like…a bug in a bug zapper, heh.” Jack gives him a face like his joke left a worse impression than being shocked did. Rhys pouts and nervously fumbles to change the subject, “Er…h-how does it feel…now that you CAN be shocked?” 

“Terrific, Rhysie.” Jack croaks, rubbing his forehead and sighing, “Ugh, don’t think I can move…”

“Is that so…” Watching Jack writhe in slow, labored motions, Rhys feels a little bad for not telling Jack sooner, even though none of this was anyone else’s fault but his own. He waits for Jack to show any signs of getting up before he realizes that he wasn’t lying. He really can’t move much. A very bad idea crosses his mind…

“Wha-? Why are you-“Jack stirs groggily as Rhys steps over Jack’s chest, squatting down to sit on his chest. He shouldn’t go easy on Jack...Jack needed to be punished. “N-no, don’t.” Rhys’ heart races as he hears Jack stutter, his eyes widening with panic, a wave of heat crawling up his neck. “nonononono, Rhys.” Jack’s body is slowed by the shock from earlier, his arms only raising weakly in his attempt to push Rhys away. 

“Ssh. Shut up.” Breathless with excitement, Rhys grabs Jack’s cuffs with his cybernetic arm, raising them easily and pushing them down with a _clink_ above jack’s head.. He sits down with his knees on either side of Jack’s upper chest, tucked up against his armpits, and places his flesh hand on the crotch of his trousers. 

“Rhys, Rhys. I don’t swing that way, buddy. You know that!” Jack’s face is drained of any humor, his eyes darting nervously from Rhys’ face to where he’s touching himself. He twists his body a little to struggle but Rhys does not let up. 

“You don’t have to. Just open your mouth for me.” Rhys’s voice wavers as he exhales an unsteady breath, shying away from Jack’s bewildered gaze whenever their eyes meet. He unzips himself, pulling his growing erection into his hand. 

“No, no, no.” Jack lays his head back with a growl. Rhys ignores the older man’s complaints and begins stroking himself unhurriedly, hands shaking with the rush and excitement. Rhys pauses to grab the front of his shirt, bringing it up and clenching the hem of it between his teeth, the sudden exposure of his stomach making him feel even more flustered than before. Picking himself up and shimmying forward until Jack’s face was within comfortable distance, Rhys pumps himself leisurely, letting the tip of his swelling head brush against the clasp on Jack’s chin. 

“Open up, pumpkin,” He murmurs mockingly through the fabric between his teeth, making it feel hot and wet in his mouth. 

“Mm-Mmm!” Jack flinches away immediately, clamping his lips shut hard and shaking his head fervently. Rhys tries to work a finger between his lips and pry them open but quickly realizes that it might not be the brightest idea. He sighs, feeling defeated for a moment as he tries not to think about the overwhelming embarrassment he might otherwise feel if nothing became of this. Searching desperately for an excuse, he looks around for an anything that might help…

“Jack,” Rhys forgets about the shirt in his mouth but spits it out, “You see this button?” dragging Jack’s cuffs up into his line of view, Rhys thumbs over a random button beside the lock mechanism. “It’s a manual shock trigger. Open your mouth or-” Rhys catches his breath, trying not to sound as nervous as he feels spinning this half-assed lie. “I’ll press it and won’t let up. You understand?” 

For a moment, Jack’s face scrunches in an angry sneer, “Ggh, fuck-” He seems to struggle accepting Rhys’ threat, but after many frustrated growls, hisses a “Fuck you, Rhys”, before relaxing his jaw and parting his lips. Rhys laughs faintly to himself…this was actually happening. 

“I’ll think about it.” He smiles down at Jack’s worried face, smug, even if it was a temporary victory…Rhys switches hands, using his metal hand to hook his thumb into the bottom of Jack’s mouth, under his tongue, prying him open. “No teeth.” 

Jack grunts, obvious irritation set heavy in his knitted brow. Rhys scoots forward, angling his cock into the wet dip of Jack’s awaiting mouth, swallowing a quiet moan when his head bumps eagerly against the smooth roof. Thighs trembling in restraint, Rhys picks his weight up and leans onto the hand that pins Jack’s wrists, tilting his hips to nudge the head of his cock down the back of Jack’s soft throat. He gags immediately, making a gurgled noise around Rhys’ length. 

“Fuck,” Rhys grits, thinking he might actually blow his load too quickly. Punishment doesn’t have to be tortuous and slow, he remembers. This is all for him. So he leans further into Jack’s face, removing his thumb and switching off with his other hand once more to relieve the ache. With a few slow, savoring slides in and out again, he tempts going deeper, Jack’s jaw struggling to adjust. “Nngh- just a bit...wider-” Jack’s throat tightens reflexively and he makes a strangled noise that might have fooled anyone else hearing him that he was enjoying himself. Rhys knew better. 

A satisfying thrill hums through Rhys’ entire body, the feeling of Jack’s teeth occasionally scraping against the top of his dick leaving him wired with a timid pleasure. The possibility of Jack changing his mind and biting down with all of his strength was more exciting that Rhys knew it sanely should be. He rides his hips a little faster into Jack’s throat, pausing occasionally to keep his knees from slipping away and takes his shirt into his mouth once more so he can watch his cock sink nearly to the base. Jack’s breathe blows hard and hot against Rhys’ navel sharply, a distressed groan sounding deep in his chest against each thrust. 

Rhys whines, low and needy, his head spinning with the effort not to cum. He doesn’t want it to end, doesn’t want to know what comes after, but he can’t hold back much longer. Grabbing a handful of Jack’s hair, he slows to a grinding pace, reveling in a few more hard thrusts and Jack’s messy sounds before he pulls up, grabbing his dick last second to shoot his load into Jack’s mouth. He jerks to life with a hoarse cry of disgust, his face pulling into a grimace as Rhys’ cum drips across his tongue. 

Rhys doesn’t give him the chance to gather himself before grabbing Jack’s hair, breathless as he demands, “Swallow it.” Okay. Maybe Rhys had gotten a bit carried away. Jack’s face is a cold mask of rigid contempt the instant he hears the command. He gathers the cum in his mouth and spits it at Rhys, most of it missing and landing on the front of his own already-dingy sweater or only spilling from his mouth like a trail of drool. 

Slightly recoiling from the spray of cum and spit, Rhys feels embolden by Jack’s defiance and grabs him by the mouth with the open palm of his hand. Jack’s strength seems to fail him when he needs it the most, because he can’t fight back when Rhys presses his face into the ground, smearing the cum around Jack’s mouth between the floor and his face. Not the cleanest method of punishment, but Rhys feels it gets his point across. 

“Jack-” Rhys hardens his voice in warning. His knees start to bother him so he un-straddles Jack’s chest and slumps tiredly at his side. He tries to think quickly past the pleasant but distracting haze of his orgasm. If he lets Jack get away with his outburst, he’ll never gain an edge. 

Rhys lets up on Jack’s cuffs, ignoring the older man’s hiss of pain as he gently lowers his arms and wipes at his face with the back of his still-bound hands. Rhys scans his body, dropping an inquisitive hand to Jack’s stomach and feeling for his crotch, intending to try a different approach to things. 

When his fingers brush against an already very prominent hard-on he had somehow not noticed… “Oh…wow, uh-” he knows instantly what he’ll do next. “What was that, earlier? About me having my way with your dick…”

“Shut up.” Jack grits harshly between his teeth, his voice strained and upset. Like he might be dealing with a small existential crisis at the moment. Rhys finds that he cannot stop smiling, a traitorous laugh on the edge of his lips. 

“Is this for me?” Rhys pinches around the length of Jack’s erection with his fingers, switching occasionally to a soothing rub just to feel the firmness. Oh no. Rhys can see that he’s actually as big as he brags. He suddenly feels incredibly unsure about all of this, not actually believing for a second that Jack might be getting off on it, too. It’s like a dream. “Oh ho, this is-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jack squirms as much as he can in his still half-immobile state. At this point Rhys isn’t sure he’s trying to fight back, which should immediately worry him, but is only exciting in the most horrifying sense. “Let’s see you laugh when I’m stranglin’…,” Jack’s menacing commentary trails off into an indecent moan when Rhys peels back the edge of his boxers, making his threats of violence only sound a harmless and sexy. Rhys knew they weren’t harmless, but that’s what made them all the more thrilling. “oh, fuck.” 

“I know...” Rhys sighs enthusiastically, mostly to himself, pumping Jack’s thickness slowly with his shake-y hands. It’s just as pleasing to look as it is to touch. Rhys wants to put it in his mouth but...this is supposed to be a punishment. How could he… glancing up to check Jack’s face, Rhys is instantly ready to throw away any caution at how Jack merely glares at him, his face slightly flushed and damp with sweat. 

“Rhys…don’t-” Jack struggles between heavy breathes, “even…THINK about putting your- disgusting mouth on me- you sick. Fuck.” Well, now he simply had to. 

Rhys climbs over Jack’s thighs, setting his weight down below the knees so he couldn’t be kicked or shaken off. He leans down and pushes Jack’s sweater up, holding his fevered gaze as he presses his open mouth to the older man’s stomach. This close to Jack’s crotch, Rhys can smell the heady scent of his skin, something fresh and plastic but still musky with sweat built up from not having showered yet. Jack makes a pathetic noise in the back of his throat, squirming uncomfortably as Rhys tickles the hairs of his happy trail with the cloying heat of his breath and warm, unhurried press of his lips. 

“Wouldn’t have to do this if you had just…swallowed.” Rhys sucks a wet trail through Jack’s pubes, moving lower while he slowly strokes him out. Nibbling along the crease of Jack’s thigh, Rhys pushes his tongue between the dip and gathers an ungraceful pinch of the skin from Jack’s balls between his lips with a lewd hum. He’s getting a little carried away, again, this time with the soft skin around Jack’s testicles, rolling and suckling it with his tongue. 

When Rhys checks on Jack again, he finds that he as covered his face, breathing hard into the palms of his tied hands. “Look at you…so hard for me.” Rhys huffs out against the base of Jack’s dick. 

“Don’t- flatter yourself…asshole,” Jack groans as though he is going to be sick, but his dick is slick at the tip with a drop of pre-cum when Rhys flicks a thumb over it. 

Not expecting Jack to be at his limit so soon, Rhys clumsily takes the head in his mouth, moaning at the heavy, fleshy taste on his tongue. God, he’s genuinely hard again. But he barely pays it any mind…he’s far too distracted by Jack’s smells and tastes to care. 

Rhys knowing that Jack’s body was new and sensitive and probably felt ten times more amazing than he could even imagine gave him an elated feeling of…power. Similar to the time he sat in Jack’s office but still different, somehow… Jack is embarrassed and frustrated with his lack of control, but this was the plan. Rhys had found the way to back him into his corner. Outside of his revenge Rhys could not care less about these things – but listening to Jack come undone just from getting his dick sucked was something he never thought he could potentially want more than revenge. If Rhys hadn’t already cum, this alone could do it for him. Moaning, this time at the gravity of his thoughts and what was happening, Rhys moves his mouth down Jack’s cock a little shamelessly, rolling the head on his tongue and pumping the shaft quicker in unison. 

Jack cries out pathetically, stomach tense as he reaches climax, his hips and thighs shuttering as he cums with a tight yet relieved groan. Rhys winces at the heavy, bitter taste of Jack’s ejaculate spilling onto his tongue, moaning dazedly when it splashes against the roof of his mouth. As Jack finishes, Rhys pulls off without letting any get away from him. 

Hauling himself up and over Jack’s body, Rhys grabs his dazed face and forces the other man’s lips open with his metal fingers. Caught off guard, Jack doesn’t have time to realize what’s happening before Rhys tilts his head back and leans in as if he’s going for a kiss. Rhys spreads his lips deliberately, guiding the cum out on his tongue into Jack’s awaiting mouth without making contact. 

Jack immediately cries in disgust, coughing as the gelled liquid slides down his throat against his permission. Rhys releases his face and pins Jack’s shoulders instead, not letting him right himself unless he felt like spitting everywhere again. “Swallow it.” Jack’s face scrunches with defeat, eyes wild with a mixture of embarrassment and anger. With one last vicious and stubborn growl, he closes his eyes and swallows, coughing once more at the taste Rhys knew was incredibly unpleasant. 

A sudden wave of guilt settles in the pit of Rhys’ stomach. Not at what he had done, but how good he had felt doing it. He falls silent with his heavy thoughts, clambering off of Jack’s body and pulling his pants into proper position, a strained hard-on still resting tight against the fabric. No, no. He shouldn’t feel bad. This is what he wanted. Rhys hesitates to check on Jack, who is lying motionless and dazed, refusing to acknowledge Rhys with even an insult. That’s more than alarming and knots Rhys’ stomach with even more painful knots of doubt. Unable to bear the silence that stretches between them, Rhys turns and paces, stopping to say something before only saying nothing. Jack suddenly stirring to life and makes Rhys jump instinctively. He panics, bee-lining for the bathroom door and shutting it behind him. 

Whining to himself, Rhys leans back against the door and rubs his eyes in frustration. He’d fucked up. He’d fucked up, right? There was better, less compromising ways to take revenge from the man that destroyed everything Rhys knew and more. 

Rhys shakes his head, no. No, he deserved this. And Jack deserved worse than giving and getting a blowjob. Rhys thoughts are interrupted by his still pressing erection, recalling the way Jack’s face had looked with his dick in his mouth…he was certainly fucked. This was such a bad idea…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOOOOOOO, thank you for waiting patiently. :* More to come!!!!


	3. I'm your eyes when you must steal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Jack is too tsundere for anyone to handle, drakefruit is a very reliable plot device, and I am very sorry for delaying this chapter for so long. Thank you so much for reading and for the feedback!!! MORE TO COME, FOR SURE.

This was quite the development. How long had he been lying there?

Dazed in his thoughts, Jack ignores the sore ache in his arms when he gradually pulls himself from the cold garage ground. The drying, sticky mess of cum and spit on his face and sweater were not nearly as fresh as the rage that weighed heavy in his stomach. Coiling and twisting his gut into knots. To say he was pissed off didn’t do his incredibly capacity for shear anger any justice, honestly. Taking a moment to gather his breath, Jack eventually stumbles to his feet, shaking the numbness out of his limbs. In a fit of disbelief, he pushes the “button” Rhys had threatened him with earlier and shakes his cuffs angrily when it does nothing. It doesn’t even give way under his finger. “Fucking-” Jack drops his hands in defeat, shifting uneasily on his feet before growling and lashing out at the desk chair with a sloppy kick. It jolts and spins away from him silently, his frustrated noises leaving an unsettled quiet behind them.

Glaring at the bathroom door, Jack literally feels for a moment, with all of his seething anger, he could tear through the very frame of it and yank Rhys out by his neck. He’s never wanted to strangle someone so badly. To squeeze the life out of his disgusting little body. But he couldn’t. Not yet. The way Rhys had fled to the bathroom, Jack knew this was what he had been waiting for. His moment to regain control. What had happened was unexpected, though. And it didn’t stop him from being indescribably angry at being played with.

Attempting to steady his voice with deep breathes, Jack staggers to the bathroom door and presses his twitching mouth into the crack of the door. “Rhys-“ Jack notes the…murderous edge to his voice and tries again, a little softer. But no less deceptive. “Rhysie, babe. I’m not mad at you- er, pumpkin. Open the door.” Silence. Silence and the sound of a gritty faucet handle turning. Jack sighs, trying to keep his patience from shredding at the seams. “Just….open the door, Rhys.” _I need to wash your filthy spunk off me you disgusting bastard_. If Rhys thought for one second Jack would stay like this then he might as well-

The door creaks open, startling Jack from his daydream of a particularly relieving death, and a meek face twisted with every shade of regret and guilt peeks out at him before it opens a little wider. When he speaks, however, Rhys’ voice betrays nothing. “Yeah, sure, Jack. It’s your’s.” A moment of stilled, awkward silence passes between them and very seriously, glaring into Rhys’ obnoxious yellow eye, Jack contemplates just…going for it. Lunging through the doorframe, working that chain around Rhys’s windpipe and crushing the air from it like he’s always wanted. But he can’t. Not yet. If he killed Rhys now his chance to exploit Atlas, _again_ , would be lost.

Grumpily pushing past Rhys, Jack bumps him hard with his shoulder, wishing the cum on his shirt wasn’t dry and would rub off with the contact. He grimaces thinking of the bitter taste of it and puffs up in anger once more…His first orgasm in this body. Not at all how he wanted to remember it.

Slamming the door, Jack takes a few seconds to gather himself again and instantly feels a welcoming wave of heat thickening the air. He hears the trickle, too, of a bath already running. Presumably for him. Some pathetic attempt at apologizing. Cliché with the best of intentions. Just like Rhys…was, at least. Jack knew this Rhys, even the one that walked from the room earlier. Not the one that had pinned him down when he was completely immobile and defenseless. He had to recalculate. If this Rhys was still capable of running him a bath, Jack’s Rhys had to still be in there. And honestly, Jack was hoping he would get to break in this new body in a more exciting ways. Like…not killing some overly-ambitious pipsqueak who didn’t know his place. Jack had already been doing so his whole life.

Trying to avoid thinking about Rhys’ typically unimpressive bathroom, Jack tiredly peeling off of his dingy clothes, kicks them away somewhat vengefully, and reaches to turn off the flow of the water when the aged, metal tub is filled to his liking. The water was rather steamy, but Jack didn’t mind. It stung but felt easy on his joints. He made sure not to dip the cuffs near the water, since he wasn’t sure what mechanism was causing the shock. Yet. Something else to think about in the meanwhile.

Sitting in the tub, Jack is distracted thinking back to the look on Rhys’ face as he held him down. The taste of that flesh between his lips, the smell…everything was worse than he remembered. Groaning, he dips his head in the water, trying to wash away the conflicting arousal edging at the back of his thoughts. As unpleasant as it was, his body responded... He was just- sensitive… right? Rhys took advantage of him. There was nothing sexy about being fucked against your will. What if had been more than his mouth? What if it had been...Jack dips his head under the water again, blowing angry bubbles. Really he should take his time picking Rhys apart. Slow and painful. His mind, hazy from the sensory overload, drifts leisurely as he soaks.

Jack eventually staves off mulling over his options any longer to loot around for some kind of soap, struggling to reach for a various tube of something just out of his reach sitting up against the base of the sink. He finally gets ahold of one, awkwardly popping the cap open and taking a sniff of its contents. Oh how he missed the smell of things. Squeezing the tube of the somewhat fruity-scented soap against his chest, he then lets it fall and float carelessly on the water so that he can rub the dripping lather left behind onto his skin. Raising up out of the water, he works the soothing suds over his dirty limbs and the hairs on his chest with a lot of awkwardly twisting his wrists around in the cuffs. No shampoo, but Jack would need help with that anyways. Sliding himself under the surface of the water, leaving his bound hands clinking above, he rinses his body of suds. Re-emerging, determined, Jack stands naked and unplugs the tub drain with his toes.

Stepping out onto his dirty clothes, Jack grabs a towel from the cabinet above the toilet and dries off as much as he can, tossing the towel over his wet hair when he can’t be bothered anymore. Almost as if on cue, there is a rustle of the doorknob and a soft knock before Rhys peeks his head in again, this time much more composed than earlier, without the trademark kicked-puppy expression.

“Jack, uh” Rhys pops his hand in and presents a folded pair of patch-y grey clothing. Jack isn’t sure what it is at first. “These are all I have for you to change into. I’ll bring you new clothes next time I go out. And. I’ll wash your old ones, so…I’ll just- er, leave these…”

Rhys sets the clothing on the sink and shuts the door quickly, not waiting for a response that Jack didn’t feel much like giving him anyways. He leers after him, mind still turning over his options, before he makes it to the sink and picks up the folded clothing. It unravels into a lanky pair of worn sweatpants that look a little too scrawny for even the meager thickness Jack’s thighs, if he’s being entirely honest with himself. He carefully steps into them and slides them on, the fabric clinging in places to his still-damp skin. They are snug and pull tight on his crotch, but he was too busy contemplating his dilemma to _immediately_ complain.

Opening the bathroom door, a cool rush of the outside air prickles at Jack bare skin, causing him to shiver unpleasantly. Walking into the low-lit room he can see that Rhys is already at least trying to sleep in his minimal bed tucked against the mess of junk on the farthest wall. Just as Jack wonders where he is supposed to sleep himself, he shuffles over something that rustled loudly in the still room; a haphazard mess of blankets and pillows. Wonderful. First the freaky fetish molestation of his dignity, then a bath with no conditioner or even shampoo, and now he was expected to sleep on the floor?

Suddenly aware of how tired he was from the overwhelming stimulation of his…exciting day, Jack begrudgingly makes his _bed_ and decides to save his conflicting feelings for daylight.

~ Jack didn’t rest well. Just as he faded into sleep, the thought struck him that Rhys might take advantage of him like this as well. Periodically shifting to check on the other man, he was even more unsettled to find that Rhys didn’t seem to be sleeping much either. A lone yellow eye would occasionally blink to life in the dark and scan the room, often strained directly on him for an…interesting amount of time to say the least. Although he was much too worn out to attempt something so soon, Jack now knew it might be risky if he was being so closely observed. He was fine with this, however. He wanted to see every detail of Rhys’ horrified face when he made his move.

The brighter morning light gradually rouses Jack completely. Rhys is awake, too. Jack sits up as quickly as possible in his sleepy stupor and lazily watches for any sudden movements from the corner of his eye. It quickly appears Rhys only wants to get dressed and little else. He nearly trips getting out of bed and almost falls over pulling his pants on. Jack wasn’t sure how this Rhys had held him down and fucked his mouth less than 12 hours ago. This had to be…some sort of trick. Rhys was playing him and he was falling for it, wasn’t he? He watches Rhys sneeze on a plume of dust that spills out from a box he accidentally kicked looking for his shirt…there was no way. Jack didn’t have much time to decide what he was dealing with and his time was only growing shorter.

Rolling out of his pallet of blankets, Jack is struck by a chill that makes his skin turn to gooseflesh. Crying out lamely in annoyance, Jack scans the room hot to see if his outcry had captured Rhys’ attention. It didn’t, however…but only because Rhys was pulling his shirt on and it obscured his face. Groaning, Jack gets to his feet, stretching kinks out of his sleepy spine as noisily as possible. Rhys’ arm gets caught in his shirt and he cannot pull it down over his chest quick enough when he realizes that Jack is staring at him. Jack grins maliciously at Rhys when his face begins to flush, winking at him just to watch him squirm. God, this kid was a total idiot. Why exactly did he feel so impatient, again? If anything he could expect Rhys to eventually hand him Atlas at this point. Scratching at his scalp and lazily straightening his bed hair, Jack shuffles over to the desk and sits in his chair, hand falling to his neck…the unusual circle of cold metal embedded in his skin reminding him of his anxieties. That’s right…Jack still hadn’t bother asking what kind of modifications Rhys had made to his coding, if any. If Rhys had altered anything significant, which is what Jack might have done in his situation, it could be even more useful to keep him alive, so that he might change it back. The cons to killing Rhys stacked higher and higher, but something in the back of Jack’s mind grated against the idea of not doing so as soon as possible. It felt as though…

Jack lost track of time again, thinking about it. Maybe this was just how his internal system worked, now. Instead of a brain, he was pretty much a computer. His processing wasn’t what it used to be, maybe? Rhys comes over with a plate, knife, and drakefruit; setting them all on the table and silently begins slicing pieces off onto the plate. Jack tries to appear distracted, but still can’t seem to stop worrying over his port with warm fingers.

The stiff silence is heavy between then, but no one seems ready to talk. Rhys finishes cutting the fruit and slides the plate towards Jack. It seems he purposefully takes the knife back to put away. Noticing this but not commenting, Jack clears his throat and manages a convincing and enthusiastic cooing noise at the plate of drakefruit. “Oooo. You’re being awfully nice this morning, cupcake.”

“Not…really?” Rhys’ voice is thick with sleep, kind of how Jack always imagined a badass Rhys to sound like regularly. He chuckles to himself thinking about it, nibbling on a piece of fruit. Rhys could never be a badass. “I have work to catch up on, so... just keep yourself busy with those projects, ok?”

“Jee whizz, thanks. Y’know, when are you gonna give me some real work, Rhysie? Ain’t that why you brought me back?” Jack speaks through his full mouth with little regard of spraying juice all over Rhys’ papers.

He gets an almost-glare for his effort, but mostly Rhys ignores him after flatly explaining, “You are doing real work.”

Jack was tired of eating fruit after the very first he had ever eaten, but it was better than nothing. Especially now that he felt things like hunger and had sensations like taste. _Still better than cum_ , he snickers quietly to himself.

“Hey!” Rhys turns to him sharply, the high edge of his cheeks blushing light pink. Jack may or may not have said that out loud. “That was….punishment.” Rhys glares like he could kill a man, but his hair is still flat from sleep and there is dried drool at the corner of his mouth.

“Uh, that was...disgusting. You mean?” Jack picks up a piece of fruit and tries to throw it at Rhys. He doesn’t throw hard enough and it merely bounces to the edge of the table, where Rhys picks it up and throws it back. Jack flinches as it hits his chest and falls to his lap harmlessly.

After a moment of accusatory stares Rhys seems to defuse, although his cheeks only gets brighter. “Mm. Maybe a little bit, actually…uh-” he drags on his words, eyes lowered, refusing to say what Jack was clearly expecting him to. He seems to contemplate silently to himself before he sighs and looks Jack straight in the face, entirely unmoved. “I’ll be at my station. I need those prints done today.” Jack scoffs and begins mouthing Rhys’ immanent destruction to himself as the younger man walks away. His irritation only worsens when it appears Rhys is smiling as well, foolishly assuming that he was going to get away without prostrating himself for his actions. It even seemed as though, like this…Rhys was toying with him. Constantly baiting him with these moments of apparent weakness, just to shut Jack’s thoughts in a trap of doubt.

But…Rhys wasn’t capable of that…right? Even in the end he…Jack doesn’t want to think about this anymore. He just wants to get away from this place, wherever it is, and get Atlas going again. With or without Rhys, it didn’t matter. Since when did he hesitate to kill Rhys?

Distracting himself with blueprints, Jack chews away angrily on the rest of his fruit, occasionally glaring over at Rhys to check in for any signs of apologetic behavior. He is deep in his work, however, pulling a box from beneath his station that had a familiar, chipped-red robot inside. What had Rhys called it? Lumpy? Rumpy? Jack watches him gently lay the bot on the table and pop open the chastise to tinker with its wires. Jack squirms thinking of Rhys doing the same with his body before he was in it: a newfound likeness for robots he never once imagined having. Didn’t mean they weren’t annoying, though. Especially ones that screamed. Here he was again, caught up in reasoning why Rhys would keep such a thing…just because Jack gave it to him?

Staring longingly for answers at the blueprints in front of him, Jack’s eyes wander across a date scribbled in the top margin. A date two months old to the current one, and the date on the print beneath that one was even older. That was more than enough time for these drafts to have been edited and cleared for construction. Jack should be confused but really it makes too much sense. Even with little rest and huge leaps in logic Jack could tell Rhys was playing him. But why? There was something else…something that Jack couldn’t put his thumb on. He glances at Rhys once again, eyes fixing nervously where he knew the yellow eye rested where he looking back. This wasn’t going to work, it was too dangerous. Jack was absolutely not going to die again, not to this unpredictable Rhys that he did not know. Time to start from scratch.

Jack gathers himself with a deep breath, mind clearing instantly with resolve. Standing from his chair, he squares his shoulders, quieting the familiar thrill that tickles the base of his spine in anticipation. This was always his favorite part, even before. Not the activity itself but the preparation. Planning the loss of restraint and submitting fully to it. Approaching his captor at a casual pace, Jack tests the cuff chain in his hands, pulling it taut with his index fingers and rubbing the tight links between his thumbs, admiring the imprint they would make on the skin of Rhys’ throat. Confidence is key to a successful kill.

Rhys had slowed from his activities, but hadn’t yet stopped what he was doing to his little bot friend. His head was tilted slightly as if his ears were trained to Jack’s movements, although it was apparent he hadn’t been entirely invested or he might have turned. His back was still open to any form of assault. His throat as well. Jack reaches above Rhys’ head, making sure the shadow of his fisted hands stayed low and inconspicuous before he was ready to go over it fully. Taking a deep breath he knew was audible, Jack lunges, setting his weight onto Rhys’ back, thrusting his arms up and around the kid’s shoulders. Grunting with the labor, Jack forces Rhys’ unsettled balance where he wants it and works the chain around his neck. He pulls upwards so it wraps under Rhys’ chin and then slides it back against his throat, chuckling darkly at the strained sound that squeaks from Rhys mouth as he pulls with all of his strength.

It takes a moment for Jack to realize that his grip is not as tight as it should be…yanking backwards, he steers Rhys to where he can see his handiwork without letting up. What he sees, however, is not what he expected…Rhys’ flesh hand jammed under the chain up to the knuckle, straining white against Jack’s relentless pulling. He…anticipated this?

“Oh, you idiot!” Jack growls low in anger, yanking the chains harder and harder until Rhys finally cries out from the pain of his hand. Before he can calm down and threaten to make this worse, there is a sharp pain digging into Jack’s ribcage that jars him from his grip. Another blow and he realizes that Rhys is elbowing him with his metal arm in the ribcage as hard as he can. It hurts like hell but it is not enough to shake Jack off. Rhys takes the opportunity as Jack is recoiling to work that hand under the chain and yank back, his robot arm having the obvious advantage.

Rhys throws Jack off of his balance, ducking under the chain and pulling Jack towards his body with it to make him stumble. He pulls back on the cuffs once more time, aiming for the other man’s face, his piercing yellow eye all Jack can focus on before a hard fist smashes into his nose with a wet _crunch_. He really had been anticipating this. He had been waiting for it.

Jack whines, grabbing his nose as blood begins to flow from it in a rush of heat. The force wasn’t enough to knock him back, but it made him plenty disoriented. He shakes his head, trying to gather his sense and sloppily yank his cuffs from Rhys’ hold. He stumbles back when Rhys releases it suddenly, not managing his balance before there is a gentle shove pushing him off his feet and landing him on his butt. Rhys only pushed him over with his foot to Jack’s thigh.

“I’m the idiot, huh?” A few drops of blood spill from Jack’s hand as he shifts it around his face, smearing the red carelessly, he can feel it damp on places and it only unsettles him further. Rhys flexes his flesh hand painfully, at least it looks so from the face he makes as he does so. There is already a dark purple mark across the back of it in the pattern of the cuff chain…Jack fumes silently, knowing it should have been Rhys’ neck instead. “You still don’t understand?” Rhys slowly approaches him, flexing his sore hand and touching it tenderly with his other one…a little blood on the chrome fingers there as well. Jack is breathing hard struggling with the blood clogging his nose. He scoots back since it’s all he can think of doing, but eventually hits the edge of Rhys’ bed. It doesn’t stop his ominous pace.

For a second Jack is sure that Rhys will grab him again, particularly with the way he glares and twists his mouth like he’s chewing over something nasty. He looks…this Rhys is intimidating…and Jack cannot help himself from laughing anxiously through his bloody nose, hoping it will lessen the severity of getting hit in the face again and possible worse. He goes rigid the moment Rhys’ kneels down in front of him, flinching unintentionally, but feels a firm tug on his bare shoulders and a wet touch of something soft to the corner of his instead. The sensation takes him by surprise, making him gasp, his nose still stuffed with blood making it painful, and pulls away against the side of the bed. He expected another fistful of metal to his jaw, instead…?

“Wha-“ Jack curls away, dropping his messy hands to Rhys’ chest to keep him from coming closer. The blood he sees smeared on the younger man’s lip makes something warm sliver into the depths of his stomach. A moment of stillness before Rhys makes to move in again. A rising complaint falls dead in Jack’s throat as Rhys presses their lips together again. No, no, no, this was not what he expected at all.

Rhys tastes like lingering drakefruit, a tinge of something sharp which Jack can guess is his own blood, and…well, not unpleasant. Jack is at odds with the new experience but can’t fully reason over the light and insistent suction of Rhys’ careful, deliberate lips on his own. He can see that Rhys’ eyes are shut, as if this was a natural thing to be doing after beating someone’s face in. Jack’s lips twitch to life in response, betraying the heavy frustration sinking in his chest. He attempts to turn his face and break contact, but his chin is forced back with the tight grip of Rhys’ metal hand. Next the slick press of a warm tongue against his bottom lip and Jack feels close to jumping out of his skin. No, no. This is definitely not what he expected. He clenches his teeth and purses his lips against the comforting pulse of Rhys’ warm mouth, groaning in….distress. Distress…that’s right.

“Open your mouth, Jack.” Rhys’ demand ghosts over his clenched lips in a quiet, warm rush of air that leaves him squirming against the bed. There is suddenly another hand, slid this time around the base of his throat. Grimacing, Jack reluctantly obeys as Rhys crawls over his lap and presses him further into the bed, trapping Jack’s bound hands between their bodies. Rhys tilts his head into the kiss this time, spreading Jack’s lips and licking gently at the tip of his tongue in an attempt to coax him into some sort of reciprocation. The cuffs…he could still…

Shaking his head, Jack thoughtlessly flicks his tongue in response, jolting in further surprise when Rhys moans and closes his lips around it like it’s a salvation, sucking it like a straw. _Filthy_ , Jack muses, momentarily swept in the exciting wet roll of Rhys’ mouth. It’d been so long since he…The weight in his chest feels bigger and bigger with each moment Rhys lies against his body. He can’t breathe, but maybe…he doesn’t want to…

Rhys sits up and straightens himself, parting their mouths to breathe, his metal hand wondering to Jack’s scalp and scratching through his mussed hair. Jack leans away from it, trying to shrug him away, but Rhys just kisses him again, pressing the obvious hard-on in his pants against Jack’s bared stomach at this height, demanding. No, THAT was what he least expected of all. Squirming again with lack of air, Jack shoves Rhys away as hard as he can, making him fall over on his butt, too, with a confused moan. He can’t look at Rhys like this, he can’t see him this way. What happened to the obnoxious nerd that he could push around without being subjected to such disgusting torture? Rolling away from Rhys, he struggles to his feet with labored puffs of air, running to the bathroom as fast as his bare feet can carry him. The last thing he sees before slamming the door is Rhys’ bloodied lips twisted into a red-stained grin.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up being too long so if it felt short, I had to split it into two just to keep you guys coming back? xD Enjoy!!! hehe thank you so much for all of the feedback, aaa.


	4. I'm your truth, telling lies

Rhys spends the rest of his morning cleaning Jack’s blood off of the floor. What had he done to make Jack finally snap?

Again, he hadn’t meant to go this far. It was different, though... Jack ran away? Not that he was surprised but…over something like kissing? He almost felt like he might have been overestimating the man for once. But that just couldn’t be true. Rhys had panicked because he thought he was going to die after punching Handsome Jack in the face. The strangling itself he knew he had to expect... he didn’t yet trust Jack not to bite the hand that fed him. If he was going to die, much like he thought he was, he’d at least get to justly impose his will on the Jack that had ruined his dreams and whom he had so laboriously brought back. Kissing, he realized, was one of those things. But he didn’t die, did he? Jack ran away and…no, Rhys wasn’t going to feel bad! Like hell he was. But okay…maybe he did feel a little bad, and maybe more for the kissing than the punching. Just not when Jack was writhing under him and shying away from his touches like a blushing schoolgirl. It felt…so good to have this power. Even running Atlas, it never felt this…fulfilling.

Rhys wants to clean the taste of blood from his mouth, but Jack has not yet come out of the bathroom by the afternoon. His blood was synthetic, so diseases weren’t a problem. Rhys just didn’t like the taste. Too bitter. Too sticky. After tending to his bruised hand for a while, he goes back to finishing Dumpy, glad he wasn’t knocked over in the struggle. He’d been damaged when Helios crashed, but Rhys knew how to fix him. He only needed a few new wires. Getting Jack running again made him a little inspired, plus not having LB and Gortys around made him miss robotic companionship in general. Things were so much simpler with robots, even ones that screamed. He’d also get that voice modulator fixed, maybe buff the AI. If it all worked out, Rhys would feel safe leaving Jack alone in his personal bunker. No one knew where this place was, and no one knew it housed all of Atlas’s prototypes and upcoming weaponry, either.

Truthfully Rhys had gotten Atlas running months ago. It was even already dealing with Tediore and Maliwan directly for collaborative business deals, still just taking off. Rhys had already built the blueprints Jack was supposed to be working on, too, but that was just a ploy. Vaughn didn’t question him too harshly when he said he needed a break from the CEO stuff for a few weeks and left him in charge. He had spent those few weeks building Jack’s body and recoding him from his old ECHO eye lens. He was supposed to be back at Atlas right now…but whenever Vaughn called, he couldn’t bring himself to answer. He couldn’t tear himself away from this room. He wasn’t even sure he could remember what day or what week it was. But all of his self-loathing, anger, and doubt before starting Jack’s new body up dissolved the moment he slid that signature mask into place. Suddenly the man that haunted him only in his head was warm to the touch and could breathe. Even his voice…Rhys shivers, remembering the cold nights he felt so alone with himself, the eerie silence of his mind driving him to near hysteria. But maybe it succeeded. Because now he couldn’t stop smiling at the thought of Jack playing into the palm of his hand. 

For what reason? It didn’t matter. Rhys didn’t want to think too hard or this revenge might not seem worth the risk. But then again, to anyone OTHER than Rhys, this was clearly not worth the risk, he knew it wasn’t. They just wouldn’t understand…only Jack could.

Feeling sort of irritated over having talked himself down from his own victory, Rhys returned to picking out Dumpy’s old wires. He wants to see Jack, to be around him. He needs to be reminded why he’s doing this. He wants to…Rhys feels his cheeks heat a little at the thought. Not likely. Threats seemed to work, but Rhys would run out of them eventually. That and he wanted Jack to touch him back…on his own… again, probably unlikely. Or it would have been…if Rhys hadn’t have received such reactions this time. It wasn’t anywhere near intimate, though Rhys still craved the contact. He was certain Jack did, too. And since he’d be working at Rhys’ discretion…what amount of harm could it do? Whatever both of them were before meeting each other – it no longer mattered.

Feeling chipper once again, Rhys steadily dismembers Dumpy’s inner frame-work, clearing it of dents and shrapnel from the few times he did see battle. He would be Rhys’ fly on the wall, hold down the fort, and make sure Jack behaved while Rhys went back to check on Atlas. His plan was slowly changing now, but he would find a way to make it work. He always did.

The sound of the bathroom door creaking open slows Rhys at his activities. The sun was pretty low in the sky now, Jack had been in there for long time…jerking off? Unlikely but Rhys liked the thought of it. He glances warily towards Jack, trying to keep himself from smiling, when he comes back into the room, noticing right away that his face is clean of any blood. There is a dark spot, however, a blooming bruise over the bridge of his nose and beneath it, the two places Rhys had hit him. A lighter one down on his chest, also from Rhys. He flexes his hand again, still feeling pretty good about the punching thing. Maybe this was the only way to work with Jack. Take an eye for an eye. It was laughable to expect any kind of mutual respect, though. But Rhys, unlike Jack, didn’t need to feel like he was in the right to have his fun. Could he have survived Hyperion if he cared nearly as much as someone like Jack did? Not that it mattered now, but Rhys considered this was his trump card. He knew when to rein it in.

To say this didn’t make him feel bigger than the most notorious man in the universe would have been a lie not worth telling. Rhys was tired of lying and he was tired of being alone.

“You didn’t have to run away, you know.” Feeling a little bold from his power trip, Rhys calls over his shoulder to Jack, purposeful in not acknowledging him with eye contact. “You think my…punishment is disgusting, but I don’t think you actually believe that.” Jack doesn’t respond but it sounds like he has stopped moving away from the bathroom door. “You and me, right, Jack? We’re going to be here for a long time…to get Atlas up and running again…” In the back of his mind, Rhys recalls a very similar, berating conversation he had with himself a few months back in order to cope with his newly one-sided thoughts. Even that went a lot differently. He finally turns to see that Jack is leaning on the desk with his arms crossed, closed off to any kind of inflection Rhys might be using on him anyways. His eyes are so cold, they give Rhys a reason to hesitate on the rest of his inquiry, _Aren’t you just…a little curious?_

An excruciating moment of timid silence passes between them, neither of them looking away. Rhys knows that he is ready, but Jack still doesn’t seem to be having the same thoughts quite yet. This makes him feel very anxious, despite feeling powerful moments before. Even had the words ready at the tip of his tongue…but then why couldn’t he say it?

“And?” Jack’s voice is sharp but steady, his eyes bore into Rhys harder, testing his mettle. Tirelessly looking for even the smallest area of weakness. When Rhys doesn’t answer, Jack gets shifty. “I don’t think I know what you’re talking about, pumpkin.” Too easy. Jack knew what he meant. He had to know. He had to know that he was out of options. Rhys had taken his ability to choose from him, and he could only be satisfied when Jack acknowledged that. No matter what it might take for them to get there...but Rhys still couldn’t say it outright. Admitting it was….embarrassing.

“Well- you know… uh,” Rhys finds his confidence slipping, so he turns back to Dumpy to avoid losing his train of thought. “Nevermind.” He just didn’t know how to say it…

Jack sighs irritably before taking a seat in his chair. Rhys’ thoughts are racing as he tries to think of how to initiate the conversation. Soon too much time has passed and the silence has lasted for far too long for Jack to follow along even if he had thought of something to say. Scolding himself under his breath, Rhys manages to get Dumpy more than half-cleaned out of his old parts, making sure to periodically check on Jack, who was looking rather bored…in fact, he still hadn’t even touched the drafts Rhys had laid out for him. He might’ve been catching on, after all….if that was the case, Rhys needed to make his move while the tension was right. Right now would be a good chance, right?

Tossing Dumpy’s old parts into a trash bin, Rhys picks out the replacements from around various locations in the room and carries them in a hammock made of his shirt to Jack’s table. Spilling them out – as carefully as possible – Rhys pops Dumpy’s body open from the bottom hatch and removes the shell of his core. It looked half-corroded since he had just removed all of the damaged parts. Jack, who had been watching him, gives a deadpan stare. Rhys hands the core to him, bobbing it lightly when Jack doesn’t immediately take it from him. Eventually he does, but not without giving Rhys a leer or two.

“Remember this little guy?” Rhys tries to sound encouraging and mostly for himself. Deep down he knew even this was a risk. A lesser one, however, so he could afford to give it to Jack as a…chance of sorts. Not that he deserved it. “I think I’ll have you work on repairing him since he got damaged when Helios crashed…if you’re okay with that.”

Not a question, just words. Jack fiddles with Dumpy’s core in his palms, “ _Am_ I okay with that, Rhysie?” A slight in Jack’s tone that catches Rhys off guard.

“I…I don’t know.” Rhys squints at Jack, not sure of his footing, even over such menial conversation. Jack of all people would turn this into a battle of wills when Rhys was just informing him of what his new job was. _Think of something, quick. Say anything._ “I guess…do you think you can?”

“Of course I can, kiddo!” Jack’s voice is warmer, friendly even, but his eyes are still trained on the components of Dumpy’s core like little lasers. Rhys suddenly feels very annoyed…Jack’s intention, he was sure. Still didn’t change anything.

“Right, well! You work on that whenever you have time. I’ll just….go power off the generators. It’s getting dark.” Rhys heads for the door, passing through the flicker-y barrier that kept Jack inside. He turns back one more time, glad that Jack had coincidentally been following his movements with his permanent scowl. Rhys sticks his tongue out before going on his way.

~

Rhys returned to the bunker to find Jack curled comfortably in his bed – his pillows tossed to the floor and replaced by the one’s he had lent the older man. “What is this?” Rhys pulls the blankets off of Jack without any warning, making him sit up and scramble to grab them back. 

“I was trying to sleep, asshole!” Jack does actually sound a bit tired… Rhys picks up on of the pillows and hits him with it, hoping it will make him drop his end of the blanket.

“Get out of my bed, Jack.” Rhys finally tugs the blanket free and rolls it up into a bundle around his arm. Jack only presses himself flat on the mattress, refusing to leave.

“I will not sleep on that floor anymore, Rhys. If you want to be partners again, you have to treat your guests a little nicer, don’t you think?” Now Jack wanted to be partners? Had he not just tried to strangle Rhys earlier that same day? He rubs his brow, trying to think of a way out of this entire situation. Couldn’t he just kick Jack into the floor? Rhys chuckles at the image, but remains firm.

“We’re not partners, Jack. You’re working for me because you have no choice. More of a prisoner than a guest. In case you missed that part?” Rhys knew how to be irritating, too.

“Hardly.” Jack scoffs, sitting up on the edge of the bed. He squares his shoulders and slumps tiredly, the bareness of his chest drawing Rhys’ attention. An unusual silence before Jack is asking him, “You treat all of your prisoners like you treat me, Rhysie?” Shit. What was that supposed to mean? Rhys meets Jack’s eyes, startled by the sudden taunting, smooth texture of his voice. With the way he’s staring…Rhys could almost think that he was trying to…

No, Rhys was just being…stupid. “It was just a kiss, Jack. Stop being dramatic.” Rhys says this, but can’t stop himself from thinking he’s worse. Getting so excited by just a change in demeanor. 

“Yeah but-” Jack tilts his head as if he’s considering something, his voice sounding normal and irritated once more. “You made me do that. I don’t kiss men. Period.” There, he looks angry again, too. Just as it should be. Rhys is safe as long as Jack is angry.

“And the blowjob you were perfectly okay with?” Rhys knows he’s not helping his case…but he cannot hold back this time, smiling at the way Jack cringes.

“Absolutely not!” Fair enough. Rhys tosses the bundle of blankets back at Jack and picks up his pillows that had been tossed away.

“Ok, look. I’ll share the bed with you. Just….” Rhys had to think of a way to do this without waking up to Jack’s hands around his neck. “I don’t trust you sleeping next to me. You can sleep in the bed if you let me restrain you.” Rhys tries to take a seat on the bed next to Jack and feels a little bad when the older man leans away from him.

“What? No, no, no. What makes you think I trust _you_ sleeping next to _me_ , huh?” Rhys rolls his eyes, but Jack persists. “What if you decide to get hands-y and I can’t strangle you to defend myself?”

_Then I guess there’s nothing you can do about it_ , Rhys smiles to himself, making Jack look a little unnerved. “Look. It’s my bed. I make the rules. You want to sleep on the floor? Because I really don’t care either way.”

Rhys can assume what the answer is before Jack gives him one, so he stands up and takes to scanning the area for the extra cord he had used for the bindings on the chair. After a while, Jack finally sighs and rolls onto the bed again, “God, you’re such a bitch.” Rhys continues searching for the cord, unable to keep the grin from his face. Once he finds it he returns to the bed, motioning for Jack to place his wrists upon the metal-pipe headboard. He obeys, but continues to be as uncooperative as possible. When Rhys gets the bindings to the perfect length, he removes the cuffs, letting Jack shift to where he was most comfortable. He immediately moves to his side, faced towards the wall and away from where Rhys would be sleeping on the edge. “Bitch,” he mumbles again before shimmying to get comfortable on his pillows and settling down with his eyes closed.

Rhys kicks off his clothes and turns the room light off before slipping into the bed, too. He is careful not to make contact with Jack and even takes time to fetch and cover him with the blanket that he’d been sleeping on the floor with. After some time he finds it hard to sleep with his back to the other man, so he faces him instead. Not that Jack would notice. Much later, Rhys falls into a dreamless sleep – somehow feeling much safer than all of the weeks he had been sleeping here at the bunker alone.

~

The next morning, Rhys is jolted awake by something hitting his hip. It’s Jack, of course, kicking him with his leg folded in an awkward angle. “Wake up, jackass.”, his voice is still pretty unthreatening with the scratch of sleep, but Rhys can already hear that Jack has something to complain about. When he is ignored, Jack tries kicking again, but Rhys slaps his leg away and turns further into his pillow with a groan. “Rhys. If you don’t get up I’m going to piss in your bed.” 

“Ugh,” Rhys takes his time fixing Jack’s cuffs and letting him up, being a little lax to follow since he was still tired. Catching up on all of the rest he had missed making sure Jack didn’t kill him in his sleep was surprisingly exhausting. He is a little envious knowing Jack’s body doesn’t work the same. On his operating core, Jack didn’t have things like circadian rhythms. When he slept and why was entirely up to him. Maybe if Rhys didn’t tell him about it, Jack would continue sleeping normally.

Jack comes out of the bathroom and sits at his chair. “Rhys, I want food.”

“There’s fruit on the table, Jack. Just eat some.” Rhys puts his pants on but lays back down after that. Trying to resist the urge to fall back asleep now that Jack was awake and seemingly had more energy than he did.

“No. I want it cut like yesterday. You don’t want me using the knife, right?” Rhys wonders when Jack had seen him putting the knife away…and why he mentioned it, for that matter. Groaning, he stumbles out of bed again, gathering all of his supplies on the table in front of Jack before cutting into a drakefruit. When he’s done, Rhys slides the plate over and reaches for something to clean the knife blade with.

“Hmm. Still too messy.” Rhys pauses his search just to give Jack a look. “Feed it to me.” _What?_

Rhys cocks an eyebrow at Jack in question, merely getting a bored stare in return. He waits a minute longer before asking, “With a fork?” If this were any other time he might have just flat out refused. But something was different…

The immediate answer, “With your hands.” Ok. Jack had his full attention now. Despite him voicing the concern that Rhys was going to rape him in his sleep the night before, he seemed perfectly fine with this. No vaguely condescending remark or anything? It almost feels like he’s trying to…

“You won’t bite me?” Rhys smiles a little, his thoughts swirling with all of the possible implications of Jack’s invitation. This was certainly weird, and probably just another shoddy way to one-up him and regain confidence, but Rhys was craving a roll in the dirt. 

“Mmmm, depends, doesn’t it?” Yep. He was definitely flirting. The corner of Jack’s mouth twitches into a grin that he is pretending to hide. Rhys has to admit that it makes him feel excited, but so did the punching Jack in the face thing. His current emotional-triggers were clearly not in order, probably hadn’t been since the wreckage of Helios, but he figured he was safe for the time being. In this little bubble, alone with Jack. Placing the knife down, he walks to the other side of the table and pulls himself up on the edge. Jack rolls closer in his chair, his posture relaxed and open. It was…unusual and disarming, but Rhys knew what he was dealing with. The sudden compliance…he couldn’t help but think maybe Jack was nearing his limit…

Rhys holds a piece of drakefruit out with his index finger and thumb, “Say a-” Jack leans forward faster than Rhys can finish saying “ah” and snaps a bite of the fruit, taking the whole thing with him when Rhys recoils on reflex.

“So,” Jack doesn’t sound particularly ravenous or apologetic, but the way he snatched the fruit from Rhys’ hand was suspicious… “Tell me about Atlas, again, Rhysie?”

“What about?” Rhys holds out another piece of fruit as Jack finishes eating the first, keeping his fingers closer to the edges in case he was feeling snappy again. “I told you everything you needed to know.”

“I think we both know that’s-“ Jack deliberately lays his tongue out flat along the bottom of the fruit before pulling the rest of his mouth over it. This time he is gentle, plucking it from Rhys’ fingers after having his lips close enough to touch the fingers holding it. As expected, Rhys is attentive of the whole thing, watching the fruit pass his lips like he remembers Jack sucking his dick – if you could call it that – and already he begins feeling unsettled. “Not true.” Jack finishes just as he swallows, sticking his tongue out for the next piece. 

_Now you open your mouth for me_ Rhys muses with a smirk. He picks up another piece and carefully places it into Jack’s awaiting mouth, sliding it in on the rim of his bottom lip. Rhys notices that Jack tenses slightly, but still he takes the piece immediately after Rhys’ hand withdraws. What was Jack talking about before? “Oh….wh-” Rhys has to clear his throat, “What do you mean by that, exactly?”

“Come on, kiddo. The drafts on the desk are too old to be as unfinished as they are. This place doesn’t look anything like the makings of a top-secret Atlas base, and I haven’t seen any sign of your douchebag friends since I’ve been here.” Rhys wasn’t really listening until Jack said something about Atlas, but he’s quick to counter, hoping he makes any sort of sense. 

Sighing, Rhys blinks his eyes slowly as if he can’t be bothered and picks up another piece of fruit. “You think I’m lying to you, Jack?”

Jack meets him halfway this time, mouthing the fruit all the way to Rhys’ fingertips and over them. Rhys feels his body tune to the feeling of Jack’s mouth on what little part of skin it was touching. Jack takes the fruit by wedging it from Rhys’ finger with his tongue, licking his lips when he had it fully in his mouth afterwards. God, Rhys could feel himself getting hard by the second. “I know you’re lying to me, Rhys.”

Rhys has no idea what possesses him to say what he says next, maybe the way Jack is eating from his fingers so gently? Or is it the deathly glare that looks like a potent mix of arousal and murder he’s specially brewing just for Rhys? “…what if I am?” Jack gives him the once-over but doesn’t answer. Disappointed, Rhys takes another slice and presses it against Jack’s mouth which opens a little before Jack realizes that Rhys only means to drag it along his lip before he takes it away and eats it himself. “Lying to you.”

More silence, Rhys is starting to feel a little nervous. He picks up another piece and hesitates to place it to Jack’s mouth. Jack opens up, still, but the atmosphere is no longer playful. Rhys slides the piece in his mouth like before, but Jack closes around his index finger as he pulls away. Jack’s teeth press only lightly into the skin, but Rhys still shivers and fights the urge to yank his hand away. After a moment, Jack licks Rhys’ fingertip before suckling off the wetness of it and pulling off with a pop. There is a slight drip of wetness on Jack’s bottom lip that Rhys is aching to lick away.

Jack chews thoughtfully while Rhys picks up another fruit to feed to himself. “Guess we’ll have to find out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been in Fallout 4 hell lately, dear readers. I am so sorry for this delay. T_T


	5. I'm the one who takes you there

Idiot. Rhys was such an idiot. Jack was out of insults about their “incident” after a few days spent berating Rhys for getting a boner over having his fingers in the older man’s mouth. It finally seemed, that as much as he _toyed_ with Jack, Rhys was still weak to the wills of his perverted thoughts. Reasonable, tasteful perverted thoughts…but perverted thoughts nonetheless. Jack felt less…frustrated knowing Rhys was also…”pent-up”, as he put it. Maybe this was all just some elaborate ploy to get Jack’s attention? It had to be. He could no longer question how disgusting the things Rhys had done to him were when it was his only remaining way to turn the tides in his favor. Attraction, desire, sex; in any form it was a weakness in this case. A righteous exploitation to be made. Jack gradually begins to wonder that…maybe his victory is easier to achieve than he originally thought it would be. He could have Atlas and his revenge. But first…

But first he merely observes Rhys as he tinkers with his dumb pet robot. _Frumpy…_ Jack mules, grimacing at the chipped red paint. Unfortunately for Rhys – he had decided to face his work station towards Jack now, probably to avoid another attempted strangling, but Jack saw it as a convenient mistake. With his new hunch, he was more interested in observing the way Rhys was behaving…which, once he really paid it attention, he saw, was overly-cautious and critical of Jack’s general proximity. Rhys would peek at him when he thought Jack was working, or nervously stroke his fingers through his hair if Jack made it obvious he was staring. The constant twitches and furrowed brows proved that Jack had done something to shift Rhys back into a more _fitting_ level of confidence…although Jack still wasn’t sure what it was he had done exactly. Was Rhys really in control, or had he just tricked Jack into thinking he was? It seemed too easy, and yet…

With the sun low in the _ugly_ Pandoran sky, Jack yawns, stretches and jingles the chains of his cuffs loudly in the process. “Hey, kiddo…think we should turn in?” He leans back lazily in his chair, making it squeak. He hadn’t touched the blueprints since he realized they were useless, but he had taken to drawing on them occasionally. Mostly he seemed to feel tired on his own, regardless of if he did much that day. From his station, Rhys puts down a screw driver and wipes the oil residue from his little project onto the side of his pant legs. He had been covered in various dirt all day, but Jack wasn’t sure he had noticed. Looking at Rhys being tired makes Jack even more so.

“Sure,” Rhys sighs before gently picking up his little robot and placing it into the box with the rest of its parts. “Just…make sure you pee before I strap you in for the night…I don’t want you waking me up to take you...again.”

“Oh, hush,” Jack mocks, his voice dry like his general level of enthusiasm lately. Despite it being Rhys’ demand in the first place, what right does he have to complain if Jack wakes him up in the middle of the night? Although he could just go himself, it’s more rewarding to make Rhys suffer as much as he has.

Jack plops into the bed while Rhys goes to shut things off as usual and is suddenly reminded of how much he misses having unbound arms. He struggles to situate the blanket around himself…Rhys is pretty quick to come back, but Jack notices as soon as he walks into the nearest glance of light that he is only wearing a shirt and some boxer shorts. He bites his tongue for all of the accusations he immediately thinks of, but Jack cannot help the way his eyes might criticize. This new behavior is unsettling in entirely new ways. Sure he can get close to Rhys this way, and the kid is certainly making it easier, but can he handle this kind of…atmosphere? No. If even his very future and livelihood depends on it? Uncertain.

“What?” Rhys stops short before climbing into bed, his hand clenching and unclenching as, Jack knows, he is trying not to run his fingers through his hair.

Jack gathers himself, rolls his eyes, and groans, “Nothing, kitten. Don’t get your panties in a bunch.” Rhys makes a face and climbs into bed, grabbing Jack’s bound hands and raising them to the head rail. Jack kind of shivers when Rhys hovers over him for that moment, for why he isn’t sure, but it’s really frustrating, and he’s certain that he’s making a face again. To make things worse, Rhys catches him at it. Fuck. _Don’t say any-_

” _What_. It’s too tight?” Rhys’ grin is playful but faltering…and still very irritating. Jack bites another nasty remark and tries to force his way through.

“Maybe not tight enough, huh, cupcake?” There was a vague threat in there somewhere, but Jack realizes that he doesn’t sound nearly as menacing as he wants to. He tilts his head away from Rhys when he sees that the younger man has begun to blush some. Rhys does pull the cord a little tighter, then tucks himself in without further comment. Jack sighs to himself, unhappy that he is forced into such…compliant behaviors. He’d rather be strangling the truth out of little dweeb, not attempting to flirt with him. It’s his only option…

Jack drifts into an eager sleep if only to avoid the welcoming heat of the younger man as he curls up silently at Jack’s side…

~

A low rustle rouses Jack from his sleep, and the warmth pressed stark to his side is enough to jar him awake. He might have jumped or struck out at the sudden commotion if only he were not so otherwise comfortable. When his eyes adjust to the dark…he realizes that it is Rhys pressed up against him, his head leaning onto Jack’s chest and his hand….tucked into his pants. _Fantastic_. Just like a dog in heat, humping his leg... Jack resists the urge to sigh and closes his eyes…this is so pitiful, really. Maybe Rhys would stop soon and he could go back to sleeping…but Jack barely twitches to roll away from Rhys and the kid moans. A gasping, pathetic moan that makes Jack’s very skin crawl. Rhys seems to stir in a panic, squirming away from Jack with a muffled groan. Jack finds himself feigning sleep for some reason, he really is the least bit interested in confronting Rhys like this, but on the other hand it plays into his favor. Thinking about it so much is becoming tiresome…

Remembering to breathe naturally as if he were still asleep, Jack rolls his head towards Rhys and squints his eyes ever so slightly to get a cautionary view. He is quiet and still in the dark until he seems thoroughly convinced he has not been caught. Jack feels a little less suspect when Rhys only goes back to touching himself, so he opens his eyes a bit further as the younger man curls up on his side again.

An uncomfortable wave of heat is pouring off Rhys, his breathe calmer now but stuttering in the silence of the room. He is trying to be much quieter, Jack notices, but toying with himself slower only seems to make his trembling worse. Rhys must have been biting his tongue, because now Jack is almost expecting more noises than he is making, low and lost between clenched teeth. When he leans in again, Jack resists pulling away, immediately regretting it as Rhys actually lays weight onto his chest. He must be close if he is so bold as to actually touch Jack…but then, a defeated whimper and careful murmuring that Jack cannot make out at first.

“Fuck-,” Rhys’ voice is barely a whisper when Jack does make it out, and so…begrudgingly vulnerable, “Fuck this. This is so fucked up. God.” _You’re telling me, kiddo._ Jack feels like he could laugh if this weren’t in fact, so fucked up. Rhys’ body is starting to feel kind of sticky against his shirt, but where their skin begins touching, it is not at all as unpleasant as Jack expects it to be. The brush of Rhys’ thigh on his own is also something he does not expect, smooth, and the hairs faint and unremarkable by any standard of hairiness. Does he shave? Jack wants to punch himself for even pondering that question. Rhys makes another lewd noise in the back of his throat and presses closer, his knees squeezing lightly on Jack’s leg as he seems to be nearing his climax. “I’m…so- I’m sorry.”

He’s what? He’s _sorry_? With those faint, probably thoughtless words, something in Jack seems to break completely. He does not bother holding back his responding scoff and Rhys does not seem to hear him either way. If he thinks he is going to get off after that, he is mistaken. In some ways, Jack feels bad for him. But only for being so terribly predictable.

Raising his voice, Jack leans away and barks “Rhys,” as if he were trying to be heard over loud music. Everything halts for a painstaking moment, and the cold that hits Jack as Rhys flies away from his side is enough to rouse him fully. Along with his anger. “Hey, _asshole_ , wanna stop jerking it to me for five seconds and unhook me so I can use the little ladies’ room?” Alright, Jack really cannot help the frustrated laugh that bubbles in his throat as Rhys slides clear off the bed and onto the floor, knocking into boxes that clatter around him ungracefully.

Jack does not see him fully from over the bed, but he can hear Rhys fumbling around aimlessly as he makes himself decent. Soon Rhys is pulling himself up on the edge of the bed, scrambling to grab a hold on the sheets and scowling in pure anger. Really, it’s a good look for him.

“Why the…the hell did you do that?” The anger in his tone does nothing to convince Jack anymore. He’s just the same lowly fanboy from accounting and Jack knows it. He knows it. Everyone knows it. What an oddly ambitious loser.

“God, I honestly can’t believe you, Rhys, you know that? After all we’ve been through together and you still can’t keep it in your pants?” The laughter does not go away and Jack himself does not sound entirely serious, making this whole situation that much more strange and bewildering. Rhys glares at him and clambers up on the bed with a bit of chagrin, clamping his hands down upon where Jack’s wrists have been clattering against the bedrail. “If I’m being honest here, buddy, as a friend I just want to say…I think you need help, man-”

“Shup up, Jack. Get out of my bed.” Rhys unfastens the cuffs and fastens them again, Jack missing his chance to see the code Rhys uses to do it for the umpteenth time. Jack is still trying to think of something to say when he is shoved hard and nearly falls from the bed himself. This feels amusing even though it really isn’t, and Jack should be trying to restore any trace of righteous fear left, but he cannot stop himself from feeling…relieved? When Rhys shoves him a second time, Jack catches one of Rhys’ arms between his hands and twists it away, making Rhys fall into his chest with a grunt.

Uncertain in the dark, Rhys cannot get away before Jack lowers his arms down over his body like a hug…only really, it’s a vice. Something about seeing his tormenter helpless makes the depths of Jack’s gut squirm with excitement. He never really thought he could have this feeling again…trapped in this house with _this_ little ray of sunshine. He was not scared of Rhys all along, but the idea of being helpless to him. The very prominent need pressing into his own groin makes him feel far from powerless over the younger man. Powerless is not something Handsome Jack knows.

“Hey, tiger,” Jack chuckles as he tries to squeeze Rhys reassuringly…only he ends up squeezing too hard, earning a sharp cry of pain before Rhys begins struggling.

“Let- go of me,” Rhys’ command sounds like a plea for the opposite, and Jack think maybe he realizes this, because he huffs and puffs and wrings himself tired trying to get away.

“Woa, woa, easy,” Jack holds Rhys tighter through his fighting, marveling a little at the strength of his new body he had previously ignored. “Sssh, Rhysie….it’s okay, pumpkin.”

“No- you’re, you don’t mean that-” Rhys struggles again, and Jack growls in annoyance, resisting the urge to throw his restraint to the wind and toss Rhys off the bed since he clearly did not want to comply.

“Rhys-” Biting down his anger, Jack shuffles up on his elbows and pinches Rhys in his arm, making it harder for him to move, “Seriously, quit it. Shut up and listen to me.” Rhys falls quiet and settles, but Jack can still feel his heart hammering away against his chest. Noticing it was a bit unusual…smothered against Rhys’ body he felt so very…at ease. The ways in which this felt natural were more disturbing to Jack than Rhys’ awkward hate boner. “Tell you what- I’m gonna let this one slide…how does that sound?”

“Sounds like a lie.” Jack laughs despite desperately wishing he had succeeded at strangling Rhys before things had gotten this difficult.

“You’re going to keep touching yourself. And you’re going to let me watch.” Jack feels Rhys swallow hard just as hard as he hears it, “You owe me.”

“I owe you? That doesn’t even-” _make sense_ , Jack can guess he will say and squeezes him to cut him off. He still had to be careful, he knew. But best case scenario, Rhys wouldn’t feel up to thinking about this too hard. He lays it on a little thicker, pressing his hands against the younger man’s back, thinking Rhys is close to submission when Jack feels him jolt under the touch.

“It doesn’t, hmm?” Jack leans into Rhys’ neck, their cheeks brushing, Jack’s hands traveling to the small of his back, “You really just want to go back to batting your eyelashes and hoping I ignore those stupid puppy eyes you’ve been giving me-” Rhys makes a hiccupping noise, tensing and bracing his hands on the bed around Jack’s body, threatening to push himself up and resist. Not that he could go anywhere...but Jack understands…he needs to fight.

“I’m not-“ Rhys doesn’t continue because Jack grabs his ass, kneading a frustrated moan out of him.

“Look…I’m feeling…” Jack loses his thoughts a bit, distracted by how soft Rhys’ body seems to be now that he’s really paying it any attention, “Particularly generous right now, even after…all of the ridiculous shitty things you pulled. So if I say I want to see you touching yourself, Rhys. I think you should touch yourself. Don’t you?” Smirking, Jack blows a puff of air onto his earlobe, making him slightly unsettled, before brushing the man’s temple with his mouth. Leisurely but purposeful.

“ _Why_ would I want to do that?” Jack misses Rhys’ question, busy steering their bodies against each other more comfortably. Like this, Jack can feel him, hard and warm against his belly.

“I mean…you _were_ just-”

“No. It’s not-I don’t…think this is…” Jack can’t let him finish. With Rhys slotted between his legs he motions his hips forward, not really a thrust and not really a grind, just a fairly innocuous bump to train Rhys’ attention to what really mattered. He stirs a bit before turning his face into Jack’s ear as well, pleading a low, “stop it-” Jack curls in around Rhys with the tickle of his breath.

He shimmies his shoulders, trying to inch lower as a gesture for Rhys’ to put his arms around Jack’s neck so they could fit closer. He was not sure the younger man would understand since he didn’t seem to see nearly as well in the low light as Jack did. Rhys still feels tense, so Jack leans forward and mouths along his jaw without much thought. Carefully kneading, he feels Rhys sigh and gradually relax. Like putty in Jack’s hands. Saying something now would have Rhys on the defense again, so Jack tries feeling him out, slipping greedy hands under the hem of his boxers and peeling them down to the start of his thighs. This was what he liked, right? Jack had no idea…but it seemed to be working.

When Jack begins to feel like Rhys can sense his hesitance at this whole touching thing, he bumps their hips again, taking a pinch of the skin on Rhys’ neck between his teeth and nibbling on it. Rhys hisses an irritable “ouch” before finally moving his arms up under Jack’s hold; grabbing him by the hair and pulling him away. A nice reaction, really. Reminded Jack of the kind of play he had done in the past with less fussy bedmates. Rhys was a handful but at least he was entertaining. _Ugh, why am I putting up with this?_

Jack needed Rhys to take over now. He could not use his hands, but he scrapes his teeth on the younger man’s neck once more, despite the death grip in his hair, and breathes a heavy “ _touch yourself_ ,” just to remind him before squeezing the soft flesh in his hands and pulling it in different directions. Rhys’s body shivers, a whimper pressed into Jack’s skin as his hips rock on their own.

The hand that is not twisted in Jack’s hair finds its way between them, pausing to brush over Jack’s growing erection before rubbing on it with more attention. Jack sort of scoffs when Rhys ignores his instructions and pulls him free, stroking him with a terribly shaky hand. Jack was taking one for the team, certainly…but the idea of being touched mutually made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. “I said yourself,” Jack is momentarily caught up in trying to control his own reaction, the still unpracticed hand on his dick feeling better than it did the first time. Definitely.

Jack misses what Rhys says because their mouths are suddenly pressing together awkwardly. It takes him off guard, although he expected some kind of pathetic attempt at making this feel normal, he did not expect it so soon or so boldly. Maybe Rhys was the same but his intentions certainly weren’t. No tongue though…or Jack might have lost his nerve. But Rhys’ mouth is soft and... _there’s_ the tongue. It’s so much less disgusting than Jack remembers. It laps cleanly against his lips, not at all messy like with the blood from before, so…Jack indulges him, just this once…

Joining mouths, Rhys moans a little more hungrily, maybe just a tad bit too encouraged now. He breaks from the kiss and sits up a little, tugging the tangled boxers off of his neglected erection and sliding it in hand with Jack’s. The feeling has the older man biting his tongue, trying not to make any of the noises he almost sincerely wants to. This wouldn’t be so hard if Rhys weren’t so eager. And maybe if it didn’t feel so…fuck he feels like a horny teenager all over again in this body.

Jack finds himself tickled again as the younger man leans in and suckles at the bend of his neck, shivering his spine. How could he possible know all of Jack’s…spots like this? The idea of Rhys intentionally having any kind of clue makes Jack shiver for a different reason. Trying to distance himself from the idea or doubting himself at all, he raises his legs a little and squeezes at Rhys’ sides with his knees, hoping it seemed inviting and not like he might strangle Rhys with his thighs somehow. Which was _quite_ the plan if Jack had only thought of it before now. “…a little…eager there- Rhys-” Jack grits his teeth in an effort to stifle any noises, approving or otherwise, he could let slip as Rhys’ mouth trails down the front of his chest, his hips rocking slow and languid as he seems to thoroughly enjoy himself. Stupid Rhys.

Rhys’ mouth finds its way to one of Jack’s nipples by feel alone, but, much to Jack’s interest, he immediately breaks contact when he brushes against it. There’s an awkward moment of confusing stillness before Jack feels something heated and wet pressing down on the area, teeth biting around his areola faintly. Someone was apparently very full of surprises. “Wh- what’re you doing there, kiddo?” Jack’s accompanying laugh is cut off by Rhys grabbing his dick, stroking it to accent what his tongue was suddenly very busy doing – slipping around the bud of Jack’s nipple before sucking on it gently with pliant lips.

“Whatever I want,” Rhys breathes, low and wrecked but still firm and _whoa_ , he actually looked pretty decent and less desperately uncool drooling all over the front of Jack’s chest like this. “What does it look like?”

Jack can’t think of what to say because Rhys is still stroking him, “Oh,” Rhys casts him a daring gaze through the dark that he probably does not know the older man can see. _Oh_. Fighting the pitch on the edge of his voice, Jack feels like he’s melting under Rhys’ hot mouth as it resumes kissing and sucking spots onto his chest. “Is…is that so? Whatever you want, huh?”

Stupid bastard had _only_ done what _he_ wanted this whole time anyways. The way Rhys lapped at his chest as if it were his leisure was really starting to fuck with Jack’s head. Didn’t guys do this to chicks, usually? Why wasn’t he hurling even though all of this was happening right in front of him and he could very well push Rhys away if he wanted to and- Rhys’ mouth is gone soon and so is Jack’s trail of thought. _Shit_ , he forgot to say something incriminating.

Catching the way that Rhys’ face twists into a scowl, Jack realizes that it must have taken him a lot of courage to command _the_ Handsome Jack with sexual favors. Or perhaps he was only suspicious of Jack’s compliance. Being stuck in this weird battle for dominance for so long made Jack forget that Rhys was his subordinate in other ways. He must’ve still thought like Jack was his better, even when he was trying to be assertive. Jack chuckles at the face Rhys does not know he is making, cracking a smile as he slides the cuffs up where he can place his hands on Rhys’ shoulders. He pulls him forward into a rough kiss. Rhys seems to soften against him, despite having the chain so close to his neck. Charming and receptive. That’s what Jack’s lays were usually like when they wanted him. Hopefully, Rhys was getting the idea, because this prostration coupled with Rhys’ bossy attitude was _really_ tempting Jack into some unsavory retaliation. Maybe…maybe he could still have his fun somehow.

“What…did you have in mind?” Playing it safe. Jack brings his thumb to Rhys’ jaw, stroking him affectionately. _Affectionately_ was the desired effect, at least. Mostly it was hard to imagine stepping out of the atmosphere on this one. Jack was safe as long as Rhys kept giving him _that_ look. That stupid, puppy-eye-let-me-suck-your-dick-look.

Rhys ducks under and away from Jack suddenly, sitting up and scooting down on the bed. _Called it._ Jack rolls his eyes in the dark. Typical. He knew if he said anything now, though, it could very well be much worse than this. Rhys still had a means streak in him under all of that fanboy…at least, that’s what it was starting to seem like.

As Rhys settles in with his elbows around Jack’s hips, the older man spreads his legs a little wider for him, resting his cuffed hands behind his head. “Knock yourself out.” Jack decides to drop the usual condescending moniker ought to shake things up. In a fun way. The look he gets…Rhys looks confused. Confused and _very_ horny. _Ah, youth._ Rhys wastes no time finding Jack’s dick with his obnoxious little mouth.

The wet against his heated skin is welcome. Jack holds his breath, trying not to gasp, but the sensation is not as familiar as it used to be. Rhys isn’t really helping with how into it he is, touching himself and moaning faintly every time he comes up for a breath of air. Despite it being creepy Rhys had stashed him away in some remote garbage bin, Jack had to admire his enthusiasm to get him here, just to suck his dick like this. At least, Jack couldn’t _see_ why this wasn’t beneficial. Especially if Rhys was willing to do as he was told afterward.

Jack had to wonder…if it was too soon to try getting Rhys to take his cuffs off? He was really starting to hate these things, and his arms got sore being either above or below his head but never free to move as they pleased. Starting with small demands was harder than Jack imagined it could be. “Y-you sure- this is all you need, Rhys…?” His voice strains like it’s going to break and that’s the last thing he needs right now. Rhys’ mouth slows some but doesn’t stop, “Since we are doing what you want, and all..” Rhys finally lets him go, his expression lit with an idea Jack was surprised he hadn’t propositioned himself by now. Just to be safe, Jack continues, “I mean, I’ve never…but maybe…you seem into that-” _weird shit_ , but Rhys doesn’t let him finish.

He’s already off the bed and through the dark where Jack can’t see; despite having his underwear tangled at his knees, he seems to be doing alright from what Jack can hear. The older man hopes desperately what’s about to happen doesn’t segway into some awful misunderstanding where he has to defend his manhood, but somehow Rhys doesn’t _seem_ the type. That’s not entirely comforting…Rhys stumbles back to the bed, this time without any underwear at all and a silver bottle in his hand. If this were anyone _but_ Rhys, Jack would almost be excited to see a bottle of lube. It usually meant things were going in his favor…now; he wasn’t so sure.

Jack silently sits up some, lowering his arms, and watches Rhys impatiently unscrew the cap of the bottle and pour some of the content into his flesh hand. Jack is about to protest some when…sitting back on his knees, Rhys’ hand disappears behind him and he gives a little gasp. Jack has to fidget a bit uncomfortably at the silence that follows. He knew what was happening, that he had been the one to make the proposition, and that this was all for his benefit, but that didn’t make it less… weird. Although he remains focused at his task, Rhys’ brow is scrunched in frustration and… _probably_ pain. He started staring at Jack through the dark as though he were suddenly self-conscious, yet he wasn’t shy enough to think twice when he starts stroking his waning erection a bit as well. Humored, Jack feels a little less anxious to say something reassuring and just watches the other man’s pinched expression patiently.

He’s getting a little bored just sitting around in anticipation so Jack takes to touching himself, too. Lazily, sighing in satisfaction. With both of his hands cuffed, it looks sort of silly, but it’s not like Rhys is going to know or see him like this. He’s dazed for a moment, concentrating on what this…interesting…sex is actually going to feel like and trying not to worry about potential difficulties when there’s a creak from the bed and a sudden cold, metal palm sliding in above one of his knees. _An invitation_ , Jack thinks it must be, and leans forward to meet Rhys halfway… but Rhys isn’t leaning in for him, only his dick, it seems. The younger man crawls in on his knees, laying lower and lifts Jack’s hands away by the chain of his cuffs before setting his mouth around his cock. _Woah_ as little as Jack actually wanted this whole sex thing, everything Rhys was doing would be very hot in any other context. Maybe if he also wasn’t a guy, but…Jack had already lost his virtues on the subject. He could no longer go back to not having this experience, and he really didn’t want to blow his mission just on being angry _now_ of all times. The anger was for later.

Feeling decided, Jack tells himself that a little encouragement never hurt anyone and places his hands tenuously on the back of Rhys’ head, cradling it. Letting the cuff chain drape along the nape of Rhys’ neck, Jack slides his fingers in through the loose strands of his hair before gripping them firmly. The response he gets is worth tempting himself to strangle again. A pathetic moan hums warmly around his length as Rhys’ mouth sinks lower, trying to take him in with one go. Jack stifles his own noises, trying to guide Rhys with as little force as possible. It was a true skill he could restrain himself for this long because he could never get tired of this feeling. Maybe fucking Rhys…it would even feel good? Anything would do now that Jack knew he wasn’t getting a dick in _his_ ass, honestly.

By the quickening of his very breath, Jack can tell he’s getting close to losing his cool. He wasn’t sure if now would be a good time to ask about the cuffs but tries anyways. “You know…you could always…un-cuff me…I could-” A harmless scoff muffled by the dick in Rhys’ mouth is all he gets in response. But he couldn’t bring himself to be as angry as he felt. The idea of actually _wanting_ to have sex had wormed its way into his thoughts, making him more flustered than angry. Soon Rhys is pulling Jack’s hands away. He sits up and slicks his hand with more lube.

“Lie back,” Rhys’ voice is strung out and wavers but it never seems to break when Jack hopes it will. Jack fusses while resting his head back into the pillows, but complies only because his erection is starting to hurt a little. A twitch of excitement and anxiety bubbles in his stomach as he watches Rhys crawl over him blindly.

“You sure you know what you’re doing, kid-” Rhys silences him with a hand over his mouth. The chill from its metal grip was pleasant against his heated face. Rhys is focused on fitting himself to Jack’s body in the most comfortable way possible, but maybe his own patience had run short. If this idea wasn’t already a terrible idea, rushing could only make it worse. Jack tries to alleviate the rising suspense by sliding his hands around Rhys’ dick like he had done to himself earlier. A surprised little groan is all he gets before Rhys sets down lightly onto the plane of his hips. The lube is cold on Jack’s skin when Rhys presses back into him, but he can feel there is plenty. More than necessary, probably, but Rhys was reasonably concerned of the risks, Jack imagined.

Rhys, with the lube still pooled in his hand, bends to reach between his legs and the tangle of Jack’s hands around his dick. He then drips it along Jack’s length as he grabs it. Both of them are moaning, the situation is beginning to look pretty desperate. Jack had lost track of his façade long ago…but now he wasn’t sure how much longer he cared to keep caring.

The younger man does not waste time lubing Jack’s dick before attempting to steer it to his entrance. The initial contact makes Rhys jolt a little, his body tensing and then un-tensing as he tests his limit by pushing against the head of Jack’s cock.

Jack’s initial thought is that… _it_ doesn’t really feel like it’s supposed to be going _there_ , doesn’t feel like it wants to, but Rhys seems determined to do this anyways and pushes Jack’s hands away when they come up in an attempt to steady his hips. Rhys holds Jack’s hands in place and bites back a weak groan rattling around in his chest as the tip of Jack’s dick finally nudges inside of him. The pressure is immediately hot and tight and welcoming and Jack has to grab at Rhys’ wrist just to keep himself from thrusting towards it into the pressure. Not realizing he had been holding his breath, Jack exhales sharply as Rhys sits down even further, taking more of him. _Fuck_ , okay, this felt really good. Much better than he wanted to acknowledge. Not that he had the choice. It wasn’t much different from the sex he could recall, but then again, those memories belonged to a body he had never actually been in himself. But in the flesh, sex was _stupidly_ good.

Whatever he was going to say comes out as a mess of words and mangled groans. Rhys is not fairing much better, it seems. His thighs are trembling slightly, a layer of sweat streaming off of his body as he tries to keep it slow. Having felt the resistance himself, Jack thinks Rhys must be in _a lot_ of pain. It wasn’t like he was small of any measure…and he had a hunch Rhys was a virgin. At least in this sense. Jack tries to ease Rhys’ strain by pulling him down on his chest, but he is shaken off and his hands only pinned again. Stubborn idiot wasn’t going to _let_ him help. In the dark Jack can see Rhys’ scowling face and his brow knitted in a panic. This was his idea, Jack wasn’t about to let him-

Jack’s train of thought is interrupted by Rhys’ sudden, and rather loud, but _gratifying_ moan. If he was in pain, he didn’t act like it. _Dammit_ , Jack just wanted to _move_ , anything. Rhys is mostly settled, but took his time adjusting. He slouches forward, spent of his effort, his sticky forehead resting on the dip of Jack’s chest. Maybe it was because Rhys had 8 inches of dick buried in his ass that he seemed so complacent, but Jack found him rather tolerable like this. Even so, he was already growing impatient. The clamp of Rhys’ body over his hardness was dizzying, to say the least.

“Today?” Jack doesn’t sound friendly, but threatening wouldn’t be the right word either. Rhys straightens himself and sends Jack a nasty glare before placing his palms flat to either side of the older man’s torso. Clearing his throat of a whine, he lifts off of Jack’s dick, the surprisingly smooth glide seems to ease him into the push back down again. Rhys halts once he’s seated again, gasping for some… unannounced reason. When he doesn’t make to move again, Jack has to ask, “You alright there, kiddo?” He doesn’t care, truthfully. Rhys ignores him and begins grinding down on him a teensy bit. Jack can barely feel much of it, but it seems as though he’s…testing something. Annoyed, he seizes the chance to rush forward and wrap his arms around Rhys’ shoulders, just like before when they were only fooling around. This probably wasn’t going to win him any favors, but knowing Rhys, this wouldn’t be the last time he had any chances. The younger man is already groaning in protest as Jack pulls him down. He tucks his chin over Rhys’ shoulder and slides his paired hands down the kid’s back. He doesn’t give Rhys the chance to say anything before he hoists him up by the back of his thighs, digs his heels into the mattress and starts fucking into him. Jack legitimately _tries_ to hold back, at first, testing Rhys’ limit with just a slow thrust. But his betraying moan and another one of his shocked little gasps ring soft in Jack’s ear, and it’s just a happy coincidence that he obliges.

After a solid minute or two of rough handling, Rhys seems to have lost all of his fight from earlier. Jack doesn’t mind because he feels _insanely_ good, not that he would ever say that. All of his labored grunting is probably enough of a clue…but he doubts Rhys is paying him much attention. Jack thinks he might even feel some drool on his neck. What a mess.

Jack manages a weak taunt between each thrust, he’s _already_ getting close. “You- gonna cum- Rhysie?” The younger man stirs in his arms, raising his mouth to Jack’s ear…he doesn’t really expect a response, yet-

“Not if- you- cum first.” Jack actually laughs. _Sass?_ In _this_ situation? His response is awfully big for someone who sounds so wrecked. Jack couldn’t help but feel as though he was being challenged. And he was never one to back down from a fight he knew he couldn’t lose. Rhys would give in. He always did.

Slowing his motions, Jack drops his hands around Rhys’ ass and strains himself sitting up with the boy in his lap. The change of position drops Rhys further on his dick, the chain straining red across his cheek as he falls away from Jack’s chest with a gasp. Propping himself on his hands, Rhys stretches his legs out and around Jack’s waist, planting his heels behind Jack’s butt before grabbing the hem of his shirt and clenching it in his teeth. Jack is busy recovering his breath while Rhys begins riding him from this angle. There’s very little grace to his gangly legs and his movements, but his enthusiasm makes up for it. With Rhys’ mouth now occupied with his shirt, Jack’s noises seem louder. He tries to reign it in despite the tight heat gliding on his cock, but it’s really a lost cause. He’s so close he definitely doesn’t even care if he cums first. He would not have thought to do otherwise if Rhys had not made it into a competition. Despite knowing that he doesn’t want to lose. Not to this utter _nobody_.

Jack brings his hands up behind Rhys’ back, grabbing his shoulders from behind and forcing him onto his dick with an audibly hard thrust. Rhys cries out sharply, the hem of his shirt snapping from his mouth as it hangs open, panting. His face twists pain, but his moans soften to pleasurable when Jack repeats the action again and again. Watching his expressions, Jack feels something raw and exciting rise in his chest. Like he was something feral chasing down prey. This wasn’t how sex was supposed to be, he remembers. But this….this feels better than any sex he remembers. If Jack had his hands free, he would love nothing more than to wrap them around Rhys’ scrawny neck and _squeeze_.

The younger man’s flesh arm is giving out on him, along with his voice. He is leaning dangerously, shifting off of his left arm entirely every now and then. Jack grips that shoulder a little too hard and it finally gives. The two of them fall to the mattress, Jack quickly adjusting to his knees, albeit a little tiredly, so as not to lose his hold and follows Rhys as he lowers onto his back. _Missionary?_ Jack wonders to himself, not sure how he felt with the sudden advantage. He was close and Rhys was close, so it didn’t matter much now.

Sliding back on his knees a bit, Jack pulls out to free his hands since he couldn’t go back over Rhys’ head in this position, and grabs him by the back of his thighs, pushing them forward. Rhys grunts at the bend, but he doesn’t seem to mind when Jack gets a good hold and pushes back into him. The younger man has also lost his patience. Jack watches as he takes himself in his hand and weakly hurries to some kind of desperate finish.

Jack scoffs at him, cracking a tired grin, “Thought you weren’t gonna cum first?” Rhys squints at him angrily before jerking himself faster. Jack has to wonder how good this really feels to him. He could hardly imagine.

With a little sigh, Rhys finally spills over his hand, a thin strand of white painting as far as his belly button. He rides it out with a few more tugs, his body tightening a bit around Jack’s cock. A few more paced thrusts and Jack comes, too, burying himself into the heat of Rhys’ body on instinct. Once he rode it out, Jack instantly feels disgusted again…with everything, with himself. But resting back on the pillows again, he doesn’t have much time to think about much before he is slipping into a vengeful sleep once more.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled quite a bit with this chapter but finally think I am satisfied with it. If I can get my shit together there should be about 4 or 5 more chapters, so worry not, this is not an end! However I have some other projects going on atm, so the updates might be...infrequent, at best. xD Sorry for that! I hope you guys will keep reading anyways~~~!! Thank you for all of the AWESOME feedback, I really appreciate it. T.T <3

**Author's Note:**

> See all those tags, guys?? Get ready to be dragged to the ABSOLUTE DICK-ish depths of rhack depravity.
> 
> ps. EPISODE 5, GUYS??? GET ON THAT SHIT. NO, REALLY.
> 
> onimata@tumblr


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